Triangle
by Mars on Fire
Summary: Tim Shepard is fresh out of jail and ready for a big business opportunity coming his way. He has only two things to worry about: Dallas Winston and the new girl behind the bar at Buck's.
1. Starting Out

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders, and I'm just having some fun.

**Author's Note:** Some of you may remember this fic from the olden days of 2006/07. I'm re-writing the whole thing, so there's lots of new stuff in store. This fic takes place pre-book. Re-writing is a bitch, but let the fun begin!

**Summary:** Tim Shepard is just out of jail and ready for a big business opportunity coming his way. He has only two things to worry about: Dallas Winston and the new girl behind the bar at Buck's.

* * *

**Triangle**

**Chapter 1 – Starting Out**

XXXX

**_Wednesday, April 6, 1966 _**

The air smelled good. Even just twenty measly feet from the gates, there was a difference.

Somehow, knowing he was free made it smell all the sweeter.

Tim Shepard glanced back at the Sebastian County Jail, then took a pack of Kools from his jacket pocket and struck a loose match with his thumb nail, watching it flare to life. He lit the cigarette and enjoyed the first, long drag, the menthol hitting the back of his throat harshly.

He'd been in the cooler for awhile on an old warrant. His contact in Tupelo had asked him to come down to Mississippi in February to meet some Texans this time, and Tim, wary of travelling through Louisiana again, took a risk in heading through Arkansas, where he had a warrant on him. Ten minutes across the state line, a trooper pulled him over and he was arrested. So much for Arkansas, so much for his meeting.

The charge was bogus - the guy he'd kicked the shit out of at a roadhouse just outside of Barling last summer had deserved it, but the cops didn't see it that way. Tim had stood in court, his hair shorn, his old '52 Mainline sold at auction, and had to listen to the asshole from the junior college talk like he'd been ambushed by a highway robber. Tim's public defender had piped up to say the kid whipped out a knife first, but nobody wanted to hear it, and into the clink he went.

This morning a guard had come to fetch him. He was given his clothes back and turned out of the prison without so much as an explanation. The sheriff had glared at him on his way out, and Tim only knew one thing that'd make a lawman look that way.

The air was cool coming off the river, carrying a dank smell that was no match for the one inside the county jail. He looked around the parking lot and smiled grimly before ambling over to the pale blue and white '56 Chevy Bel Air at the curb. A muscular guy with greased black hair and sunglasses lit a cigarette as he closed the door with his hip.

"Thought they'd decided to keep you for good," the guy said to him, extending his hand.

"Them boys know better." Tim smiled slowly, the gesture doing nothing to soften his hard eyes. He shook hands with Bill Pearce. "I take it you paid that kid a visit. I owe you one."

"You owe me more than that." Bill's knuckles were raw. He could pack a real punch when he wanted, which always came unexpectedly to those who didn't see the jovial man as a threat. He wished he'd seen the look on the kid's face. "I even dropped off the little weasel at police headquarters yesterday afternoon to recant, and I'm sure you know how much I hate parking outside a sheriff station."

He shrugged. Small price to pay.

"You wanna drive?" Bill asked. He rarely offered - Bill knew how he drove.

He shook his head. "Been a long morning. Just wanna get the hell out of Arkansas."

He opened the car door, studying the glass etched flowers on the rear passenger window. Not many guys on the North side could get away with that kind of pansy shit on their cars, but most guys weren't Bill Pearce. He tossed his leather jacket into the back seat and got in the passenger seat, waiting for Bill to start the engine.

"How the hell do I get outta here?" Bill muttered, running a hand through his hair as he looked around, sheriff's vehicles clogging the area. "Damn place makes me nervous as sin."

Tim looked at the building, staring at the coiled barbed wire on top of high fences. There were no guard towers, it being just a small county jail, but there were men with high powered rifles all the same, and all too willing to take a shot if you ran.

"Just take a right here and follow it 'til you hit Garrison, then head to the river," Tim said, gesturing up ahead of them. "I don't care much how we get back to Tulsa after that."

He rolled the window down and took a deep breath. He took another drag of his cigarette and let the smoke out slowly. The grey ribbon dissipated quickly as it hit the cool spring air. Being in jail or prison always made him feel a little tense in cramped spaces, and it took weeks for the feelings to fade. Even being in for such a few short months this time had given him that close feeling.

"Those two guys from Texas are comin' up in a few days," Bill said as they got on the road.

"Marty called Buck's looking for you after you didn't show down in Tupelo. I dunno what he told 'em, but them Texans are eager to meet. They called Buck's two days ago looking to set up a meeting when you were out. I figured you wouldn't be too interested in serving your sentence, so I told 'em you'd be out by this weekend. We set up a meeting for Saturday at Buck's."

"Good deal," he said nodding. He could count on Bill to make all the right calls while he was gone. Somehow, if his brother was in charge, he had a feeling he'd still be rotting in jail and the Texans would be lost to the wind. "How's everything else?"

"Boys are good, territory is cool," Bill said, cutting a car off as he sped over the river, earning a honk from the other driver. "Roth got suspended again - they found a switch in his locker - and Pete Malcolm got his head busted open, so he's in the hospital another day or two. Hamilton and Steve Randle got into it over Evie Roberts, and Mathews and my sister broke it off for the four hundredth time since Christmas. Man, I'm glad you're out."

He nodded at the news, none of it mattering, and closed his eyes, aiming to cut some of the static out of his head. He needed to leave jail behind and focus.

"Might have one problem though," Bill said.

He opened his eyes. Trust Bill to lead with the good news.

"Curly got picked up riding in a stolen car and bailed when the fuzz showed, so the Brumly kid riding with him took the fall. He didn't rat Curly out, so this kid's gone away for a few months, boys' reformatory or something. Brumly ain't too happy about that."

Nothing that couldn't be fixed. A few beers with Green, the top guy with Brumly, would smooth out whatever Curly fucked up, though probably not without some pain for Curly.

He willed the car to be in Tulsa already. He had a meeting to prepare for. This was a chance to really make some dough and a name for themselves beyond the confines of their territory and the hoods in it. These Texans might be able to help move the Shepard gang in the direction he wanted them to go.

He watched the scenery speed by, blue sky stretching as far as you could see. It was good to be out, and good to be heading to that meeting. He relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Tim Shepard was back in charge.

XXXX

Ruby Merril stared at the red convertible as it pulled into the Fuel 'n' Stop Wednesday morning, her cousin Buck behind the wheel.

Her father hadn't wanted to leave her at a truck stop in North Texas all by her lonesome, not at first. But he'd been running late and had already gone off his course by a few hours, and the delivery was expected by the next day in Tallahassee, and he had to make it before Good Friday. So she'd made him go, promised to wait for Buck and didn't even cross any fingers behind her back when she said it.

Her cousin pulled up in the shiny red Thunderbird just after nine in the morning, wearing the world's biggest cowboy hat, and honest-to-God chewing on straw like he'd been born a cowpoke. He was probably the biggest city slicker she knew and even the stable full of quarter horses he'd told her about wouldn't change that.

"You waitin' long?" he asked. He got out of the car, stretching his lanky frame, but made no move to hug her or even shake her hand. She was kind of grateful – she hadn't seen him in years.

"Few hours," she said. "Can you open the trunk?"

He shook his head. "Got beer in there."

"Beer? What for?"

"We got the damndest booze laws in Oklahoma, that's what for," Buck said. "Only place you can get hard liquor is a state run store. That goes for beer over three point two. Can only sell it at room temperature. Whenever I do a run down to Texas or over to Arkansas or Missouri, I get some of the good stuff, keep it on ice."

Ruby smirked at him. "So you only came to pick me up so you could do a beer run?"

He smiled at her again, those two front teeth making him look more and more like a horse every time she saw him. He was really a William junior, but everyone had called him Buck as long as she'd been alive. She wondered if he cared it was because of his buck teeth.

"Where'd you get this car?" she asked, looking over the gleaming red Thunderbird. It was far too new and far too fancy for a man who lived hand to mouth like her cousin.

She put her two suitcases, her train case, and her record player in the back seat of the convertible – Buck didn't bother to get out and help - and struggled with the two boxes packed with her riding gear. She got in the car and admired the white vinyl. She hadn't ever been in a car this nice.

"Beauty, ain't it?" he said, giving her a sidelong grin. "A '66 Thunderbird with a 428 engine."

"Where'd you get it?"

He looked over at her and smiled again and she shook her head, smiling a little herself. However he'd gotten the car, it most likely wasn't legal. Buck hadn't changed much since the last time she saw him.

"Didn't get a chance to see you when I was down in August. You look a lot different since last time you visited," he said.

"Last time I was thirteen," she answered, tucking a few strands of dark hair behind her ear. "And I couldn't be there when you took Bella. Couldn't stand it."

"You're eighteen now?"

"This past February," she said, watching as Buck peeled out of the truck stop and onto the highway.

She watched some horses in a pasture as they sped north, and she ached to be riding. Buck had come at the end of summer last year and bought her horse, Bella. With the ranch failing, money tight, and her father on the road more than not, she'd had to do it to make ends meet. Better selling her to Buck than a stranger, and the thought of reuniting with her horse made this escapade of moving a little more bearable.

It was like a knife in her heart when her father had said he was selling their little house in Abilene. But her father had been on the road most his life since Korea and wasn't gonna change. She'd gone with him more times than she could count, mostly in the summers, keeping his paperwork and looking after the money, but it was hard. The sleeper he had didn't fit two, and her father would make a bed for himself out of furniture blankets in the trailers. She always felt like an interloper on those trips, try as she might to make herself useful. Her father was looking to go on the road full time, and keeping up the house herself, the fields ... they'd already lost most of their money.

"How is Bella?" she asked. "She doin' alright?"

"Don't race worth a damn," Buck said, chucking his piece of straw out into the open sky. "Slowest damn horse I ever saw. Sits in the paddock and eats like a cow."

"She's a trick horse, not a racer," Ruby said stiffly. She would have to work hard to get her back into form from the sound of it. It would be a stretch for the both of them … she hadn't ridden since she'd sold Bella. Her horse might not even recognize her.

"You can go out, take stock of the horses," Buck said. "My rodeo partner works the racing horses during the season. You can have yours to do what you like."

"Any money in it?" she asked, looking over at him. Her father had left her with only fifty dollars. She knew Buck had agreed to cover her room and board, her father saying he'd send money for her upkeep when he could. She felt like one of those orphans in an English novel, like the ones Sue Ann Price liked to read at school.

"Might be able to find something for you to do," he said slowly. "Depending on how racing goes, I might be able to pay you to keep mind of the stable during the day, but it won't be much. I usually go down there and make sure things are running alright, you can take it over if you want."

"What else will I do?" she asked. "I don't know a soul, and I'm not about to sit around all day doin' my hair."

"Don't look like you do it now."

She narrowed her eyes as she looked at him. He kept his gaze on the road ahead. She looked down at the plaid shirt dress she wore, wishing she'd worn blue jeans. She didn't feel like herself. None of this felt like her.

"You sling a drink alright?" Buck asked a moment later.

"Depends what you want."

"Whiskey highball."

She laughed. "Whiskey and gingerale, try something harder."

"Whiskey sour."

"Buck, you ain't even trying. Lemon juice, sugar, whiskey. Come on now, I come from a long line of Merril drinkers, just like you."

"I suppose that means you'd know how to make a gin and tonic? Or open a beer?"

She glanced over at him. "Unless my brain somehow falls out between here and Tulsa."

"Alright, you're hired," he said, that big toothy grin out again. "I'm hosting a party Saturday night, you can work the bar. Help Irene serve drinks. That's something for you to do."

"For money?" she asked pointedly.

"We'll see how good you are. It's a rough crowd, but they might tip some, if you dress for it."

She looked over at Buck, but his gaze was on the highway in front of them again, like he was afraid to look at her. She wasn't about to get tarted up like a floozy just to make some tips, but waitressing might be a good way to meet some folks.

She didn't want to leave Abilene, or be shunted off to a cousin she hadn't seen in five years like a problem, but they were out of money and out of choices. Her father was going on the road full time, she was moving to Tulsa, and there wasn't anything she could do about it. If she could make a friend or two, maybe it would be bearable.

Ruby watched the landscape fly by. The wind tousled her hair, and she hoped like hell she was headed for better things.

* * *

**A/N: **Any comments are appreciated.


	2. This Is Home

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thank you SO much for all of the reviews and comments, they are much appreciated.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – This is Home**

XXXX

_**Wednesday, April 6, 1966**_

The Thunderbird cruised off the highway and onto a stretch of road headed to what Buck said was the north side. The north side of what, Ruby didn't know, but the street she was on appeared to be a main drag.

Buck turned through all kinds of residential streets, the houses in disrepair; chain link fences were ratted with weeds and the kids playing in the street watched with suspicious looks as the car passed them. It reminded her of the barrio near Sears Park back home, where all the Mexican kids lived. Only instead of norteño and ranchera music, she heard the occasional riff of a rock and roll guitar coming from a car radio.

Buck drove past a steel factory, then a few blocks north he pulled off into a dirt lot that pressed up against railway tracks. Boxcars sat nearby, and Ruby heard the screech and thud of metal hitting metal as the train cars slowly moved.

He threw the car into park, and she looked around in confusion. The only thing nearby was a three storey white building, the paint flaking off the concrete. A door on the second floor led to nothing but air and a broken leg if you were silly enough to walk out of it without looking. It was the strangest place she'd ever seen.

Buck got out of the car.

"Where are we?" Ruby asked.

"My house," Buck said, placing the big cowboy hat on his head. "Yours too now, I suppose."

"Here?"

"'Course here, you see anywhere else?"

She looked around helplessly. This big old building couldn't be his house. It looked like an old store front or apartment building or something. Not the house he promised.

"I thought you had a house."

"I did," he said, unloading cases of beer from the trunk. "Got condemned about a year ago. Place was falling apart anyhow. Got this place for a steal last year, been fixin' it up ever since. I told your ol' man about it."

Her father had never mentioned this. She stared up at the blank white building, the tall rectangular windows looking like empty eye sockets. She frowned when she spotted a neon sign in one window. She had a bad feeling about this.

Buck grabbed a couple cases of beer and took them up some concrete steps to the front door, balancing the cases on a knee while opening the screen door and fussing with his keys. Ruby realized the place must have a cellar if there were that many stairs leading up to the front door, and she felt a wave of relief at that.

Ruby waited a minute, then seeing Buck had no intention of coming back out to help her, grabbed her two suitcases out of the backseat and set them on the dusty gravel. She struggled with the boxes of riding gear, then picked out her train case and record player. She carried them up the concrete stairs to what could barely be called a patio and inside the front door.

She paused – it was so dark inside it was like being in a coal miner's lunch pail. She couldn't see a foot in front of her.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw the end of a wooden bar in front of her, stretching to the far wall, bar stools dotted along its expanse. There were tables and chairs off to her right, scattered around the room, and a jukebox near the corner of the room. To her left was a room that looked like it wanted to be a kitchen but didn't know how.

"Jesus," she breathed.

"You like it?" Buck grinned. "Spent a whole year finishing that bar out and fixing this place up. Some good parties here, lemme tell you."

"You have a bar in your house?" she asked, her voice thin. She put the record player and train case down on a table.

"Not exactly … " Buck intoned. "Told you we have some of the damndest liquor laws. 'Course there's nothing against a man building a bar in his own home and entertaining his friends sometimes."

"His paying friends?" Ruby asked, a hand on her hip.

Buck shrugged. "Long as the cops don't find out. I got one paid up to look the other way when he patrols around here, that's good for now. But just the one."

Ruby couldn't believe her ears. An illegal roadhouse, and she was going to be living on top of it. Somehow she didn't think her daddy knew about that part.

"Come on, I'll show you up to your room," Buck said, gesturing to a stairway in the next room. "It's more like an apartment. Folks around here … well, I like my privacy."

She grabbed her things and followed Buck up the flight to the second floor. Doors were shut up and down the hallway, and he took her around the corner to a second set of stairs to the third floor.

"What're all the rooms for?" she asked.

Buck paused on the stairs. "Sometimes folks lay over here after a party, or if they need a place to stay."

"Paying folks," Ruby said, not even posing it as a question this time. She shook her head as she followed Buck up the stairs, her stomach flipping over. God only knew what kind of apartment he'd built for himself up here. Oh, this was a horrible mistake.

She swallowed a lump in her throat the size of the Alamo and wished she was back in Texas at the little ranch.

Buck rounded the top of the stairs and went down the hallway, Ruby trailing behind him. He reached a door and opened it, striding inside and not bothering to hold the door for her. She walked inside, holding her breath.

The little apartment was L-shaped, and probably was separate rooms at one time. To her right, down a little hallway, was a bathroom and a bedroom. To her left was the main part of the apartment, and another door she supposed led to a second bedroom. She rounded the corner after shutting the door.

The main room was large, a couch and coffee table on top of a home spun rug, and a cabinet television facing it. A dining room table – a cheap aluminum one with four chairs – sat against the wall behind the couch. A kitchen was along the back wall, a pale blue refrigerator and an electric stove sandwiched between counters.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The place was clean and had plumbing. That was all she needed to know right now.

"This'll be your room," Buck said, walking past her to the bedroom on her right. "Bathroom's just down the hall there. Hate to burst your bubble if you thought this was some kind of fancy hotel, but we gotta share."

She smiled at her cousin's attempt at humour. She followed him to the doorway and looked in at the bedroom.

There was another homespun rag rug on the floor, and a small dresser nestled between two windows. A closet was on the left hand side. A double iron frame bed sat against the wall to her right, and another dresser was against the other wall, a window tucked near the corner. The two east facing windows would give her morning light, and the south one near the dresser would give light all day.

The room was sparse, with a plain blue bedspread, and she hoped clean sheets. A little of the tension left her shoulders.

"It's real nice," she said, meaning it. She set her record player down on top of the longer dresser, and skimmed her hand over the worn wood.

"Well," Buck said, shifting from foot to foot, crushing his cowboy hat in his hands. "I'll bring up your suitcases, if you want."

"Okay," Ruby said, smiling. "Leave the boxes. I'd like to take those out to your stable. It's my riding things."

She sat her train case down on the dresser after Buck left and looked around the room. It smelled of fresh paint, and she couldn't see any dust bunnies hiding in the corners. Some of the ceiling plaster had cracked, and the closet door squeaked like a mouse when she opened it, but there was more than enough room for her things.

She peered out one of the east windows and saw a stand of trees not too far away, a little white house beyond them in the distance. She could hear the whistle of the trains and decided the noise might not be too bad.

The bar downstairs was a surprise, but maybe it'd give her a chance to meet some people around here. She clicked open the latches to her train case and took out her mother's jewelry box and sat it on the dresser. It looked more like home already.

XXXX

Tim shut the door of Bill's car, his jacket slung over his shoulder, and moved through the tall grass toward his house.

He opened the screen door and pushed open the front door, hot air assaulting him. It was quiet inside, no television blaring, and that meant Hank wasn't home yet. He didn't like walking into his house and seeing his stepfather parked on the couch, even all these years later.

The air in the house was stagnant and hot, and he propped open the front door with one of Curly's shoes, letting the air circulate. He tossed his jacket onto the couch and headed for the icebox. There were a few bottles of beer inside, and he cracked one open, relishing the coolness and the alcohol after all this time.

He leaned back against the counter and cracked his neck before taking another long drink of his beer. He walked down the hallway, carrying the bottle by the neck, and pushed open the door to the room he shared with Curly. He cursed as he got a look at the place.

Ordinarily the room was a blank slate, just the way he liked it, but Curly seemed to think Tim being in jail meant the room was his domain, and Curly was going to get a wake up call about that. Clothes littered the floor, dirty dishes were piled on the dresser, and his brother, knowing he liked the blank white walls, had tacked up some pin up girls, probably from an old Playboy.

He put his beer down, snatched the photos off the wall and balled them up, tossing them into the hallway. Both beds were covered in clothes and God only knew what else. Sighing, he picked up arm fulls of clothes – he noticed his own were mixed in there too, and Curly might have a hard time seeing out of his eye for awhile if he kept touching Tim's things.

He tossed everything out in the hall, making trip after trip, until the room was clean and empty. Curly could toss his stuff back into the closet like they'd agreed. Tim slammed the dirty plates into the kitchen sink, knowing his mother would blow her stack at him any other time. But today he was home from jail, and that'd cut him some slack.

He lit a cigarette, then went to the kitchen door to open it and get the air moving when he saw the figure lurking out by the shed. He pushed the curtain covering the kitchen door window over to get a better look, then spat out a few choice words when he saw who it was.

He opened the door as quietly as he could and crept through the tall grass.

"You need help with something, Dally?"

The blond whirled around, caught dead to rights, and Tim frowned when he saw the case in Dally's hand. A rifle case.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked him.

"Thought you was in jail in Arkansas," Dallas said, as if he'd just run into Tim at Buck's or the Dingo or something.

"Answer the question."

Dally stood up taller and shrugged like he wandered through Tim's backyard with a rifle every day of the week.

"Just need a place to stash this."

"And you thought hiding it on my property was the best place for it?" Tim flicked ashes towards Dallas. "Oh, I got a place for it, but you ain't gonna like it. Hand it over."

"You don't wanna hang onto it, that's fine, it's cool," Dallas said. "Kind of a pussy thing, but it's cool."

"Who'd you murder with it?" Tim asked. "I take this thing and next I know O'Lafferty's got me smashed against the ground with his boot in my neck."

"It ain't mine."

Sometimes Tim just wanted to beat the shit out of Dallas. He always said just enough to get his blood boiling, but never enough to answer any questions straight.

"You steal it?" Tim asked.

Dally shrugged.

"Give it over."

Dallas looked up at him. "Yeah, right. I hand it over, and you beat me over the head with it, I know how this game goes."

"Quit the bullshit," Tim said. "I'm tired, I been stuck in jail for the last three months, and all I want is a hot shower and something to eat, not to play bullshit games with you all afternoon."

"You ain't no fun, Shepard," Dallas said.

Tim turned back to the house, and Dallas called out to stop him.

"Look, I'll come back for it in a couple weeks," he said. "It ain't hot, it ain't anything. It's Sylvia's old man's. She wanted me to take it and hide it somewhere so he couldn't get his hands on it."

Tim stared down at the case. Dally might just be telling the truth for once. He looked over at the blond who rolled his eyes and then propped the case up on one hand and snapped it open.

"Winchester 94, pretty good gun," Dally said conversationally.

Tim lifted it out of the case and took a look at it. It was a lot better than the shit rifle he had before the cops confiscated it last year. He aimed at the sycamore tree in the corner of the yard, checking out the sights.

"Mind if I shoot it?" Tim asked.

"Not if you hang onto it for me," Dally replied.

Tim nodded and put the gun back into the case. "I find out it's hot or you blew somebody's head off with this, I'll shove it up your ass."

Dallas's laugh felt like it was ripping out his spine. "You comin' to Buck's on Saturday?"

Tim nodded. It'd do no good to tell Dally about his meeting. The whole world would know if he did that. "Yeah, I'm coming."

Dally nodded, then headed off through the grass and over the neighbour's fence, the way he'd come. Tim headed inside, a headache brewing behind his eyes.

XXXX

Tim stood under the hot spray of the shower for a good fifteen minutes, trying to erase the smell of prison, relieve his headache and melt the tension out of his shoulders. By the time he got out, he felt halfway human again.

He put on a pair of old jeans and wandered through the house shirtless, looking for something clean to wear, but Curly had cleaned out his drawers, just about everything in the dirty pile in the hallway now.

He wanted to head to Brumly territory to find Bobby Green and settle things. Only he had no car, and that was going to be a problem.

Before he had a chance to solve it, Curly came trampling into the house, Pete Malcolm trailing behind him. Pete was a shifty kid, always looking nervous, like a wispy ghost. His hands were jammed in his pockets and a mile of gauze was wrapped around his head.

Curly spotted Tim first.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed, a wide smile on his face. "When did you get out? I thought they was keeping you for a year?"

"They decided otherwise," Tim said. He took Curly's outstretched hand to shake it, but pulled his brother into a headlock and held him there.

He looked over at Pete, who was paler than normal. "What happened to you?"

"Some asshole broke a pool cue over my head at that billiards place down on 11th on the weekend," he said. "Got stuck in the hospital."

"You look like you stormed the beach at Normandy," Tim said wryly. "Take that shit off so no one thinks you've gone soft, then beat it outta here. Me and Curly gotta have a talk."

Curly started to cough and choke as Tim squeezed his head harder.

Pete exchanged a foreboding look with Curly, who was the colour of a ripe tomato, then headed out the front door like a good soldier, the screen door slamming behind him.

Tim let Curly go, and his brother sprawled towards the couch.

"Geez, Tim," he choked out. "What's up? You aimin' to kill me?"

"What's up? That's all you gotta say for yourself?"

Curly's smile faded. "You heard about the joyriding, huh?"

"You thought I wouldn't?" Tim stared his brother down. "You think me locked up in Arkansas means I ain't gotta clue what goes on here?"

Curly had the decency to look chagrined. "Look, we were just goofing around, boosted the car and was joyriding a bit when the cops were on us. I bailed, I thought Richie was bailing too, only he stayed in the car."

"Yeah, and he didn't rat you out," Tim said. "Now Green's hacked off he lost one of his men because of you."

"It wasn't because of me!" Curly paced the living room. "It ain't my fault I know when to run."

"You shouldn't have been caught in the first place," Tim fumed. "It's stupid shit like this that messes up all the other shit we got goin', Curly."

"Yeah, like what? All's we've been doing is stealing a few hubs here and there, and betting on a few horse races. Bill said we'd have some shit to do, but it's been slow."

"Well not for long," Tim said. He wasn't sure it was a good idea to tell Curly, but if the Texans turned out to be trouble, he wanted the gang in Buck's to back him up. "I got a meeting set up for Buck's place on Saturday night with some Texans that Marty knows through Mendoza. They may have a job for us – something big."

"No kidding?" Curly asked. "That's tuff, Tim."

"Yeah, you know what ain't?" Tim asked. "Me coming home and finding you think I moved out while I was across state lines."

Curly's face flushed red again. "It's you always keep the room so …"

He must've caught Tim's look, because he shut up.

"You want us all at Buck's Saturday?"

"Yeah. But you're to show up only if you keep your goddamn nose clean between now and then," Tim said. He found a t-shirt stuffed under the couch and shook it out. It wasn't pristine, but it'd do. He pulled it on, then rolled his pack of Kools in the sleeve. "Now I gotta go find Green and take care of things with Brumly. There's a pile of your shit in the hall. Get it cleaned up before ma gets home and if I ever see you touching my clothes again, I'll set yours on fire, you got it?"

Curly nodded, quiet for once. Tim headed out the door and walked toward Peoria Street, hoping he could hitch a ride into the lion's den.

He'd settle the score with Brumly, even if it was at Curly's expense, then it was on to preparing for the meet with the Texans.

* * *

**A/N:** Poor Tim is so hard done by lol. This chapter is entirely new, it never appeared in the earlier versions. I wanted to bring Dally in a lot earlier, and you all know I have a thing for Tim-at-home scenes lol.


	3. Start the Commotion

**Disclaimer:** The Outsiders belong to S.E. Hinton, I'm just playing.**  
**

**Author's Note: **If you like talking about the Outsiders book, movie, TV show or fan fiction, join us at the 731 North St. Louis Outsiders board - link in my profile.

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Start the Commotion  
**

XXXX

_**Saturday, April 9, 1966**_

The past few days Ruby had gotten acquainted with Buck's place.

The stable and barn had been a nice surprise. The stable was well kept, the horses happy, and the barn tidy. Buck's stable man, Wick, was a bit crotchety, but he knew what he was doing. Ruby didn't miss the fact he'd stuffed a bottle of something under his bedding in a small room off the stable, though.

"Wick stays out here some nights," Buck told her later. "Usually stays with his son, but every so often he throws him out, Wick lays over here or in the barn."

Ruby had nodded, but paid no attention, as she'd spotted her horse, Bella, in the far stall.

All of Buck's efforts to show her around after that fell on deaf ears. She'd saddled the palomino mare and got her on a long line, allowing her to lunge a bit before Ruby attempted to ride. In no time she was flying around the riding ring, and her hopes soared. It wouldn't take much work at all to get Bella back to trick riding. She might be more out of shape than her horse.

She'd gone out to the stable every morning since and rode for an hour or two. She was getting to know the other horses as well, but she only had eyes for Bella.

Saturday morning Ruby woke up late and watched the trees outside her window. She was already used to the sounds of the trains, and she threw the covers off, pulled on her riding jeans and a western shirt and headed into the kitchen to make breakfast.

The refrigerator had been in a sorry state a few days ago, with only a jar of mayonnaise and a few bottles of beer. She'd made Buck take her to the grocery store, and she'd blown half her fifty dollars on food, with promises from Buck to pay her back. She had her doubts about that one.

After breakfast Buck took her to the stables and she spent a few hours riding. she finally saddled Bella up and tried a few of her tricks. Buck picked her up right on time and told her to come down to learn about the bar after her shower.

As she came down to the second floor later that afternoon, she could hear the sounds of an argument behind one of the doors. She knew it wasn't Buck's voice, and she could hear a woman's voice. She had no idea anyone had even been staying there.

She came down the last flight of stairs on her tip toes and found Buck stacking a few bottles of his Texas beer run cache in a small fridge behind the bar.

"Good, you're here," he said. "Wanna run over a few things 'fore folks start showin' up for tonight."

"Do lots of people come?" she asked.

"Fair amount," he said. He reached under the bar and pulled out a Smith and Wesson revolver from below the counter. "You know how to use this?"

"I'm from Texas, even the mosquitoes know how to use that," Ruby said, giving Buck a sidelong glance. "Been awhile since I shot a pistol, though. Daddy kept ours in the truck and had me keep the rifles when I was at home, I'm better with those."

"Well, this is a .357, might be a bit much for you to handle. I'll pick up some .38 Special cartridges when I remember, and I'll see how you are shooting it. Double action and it's loaded, take the safety off here. Just squeeze the trigger, hard. Anyone comes in here to rob the place, blow their head off," Buck said.

She followed Buck out from behind the bar and into the room that didn't know how to be a kitchen. There was a wash basin, a bunch of cabinets and a locked pantry, and he opened it to show her aluminium tubs filled with ice and beer.

"The good beer's back here, I'll give you all the keys since Jed won't be here tonight. Watch that door, guys like to walk off with the good stuff, so make sure you lock it up. You don't give 'em one of the good ones unless they ask for it by name, otherwise it's three point two Bud from the keg behind the bar, got it?"

She nodded.

"Gin, whisky, bourbon and mixers behind the bar, don't let no one back there but me, Jed and Irene," he said. "Jed's out of town, so you won't meet him tonight. Most people know the deal. Irene'll take care of washing up stuff, but nobody that comes to these parties cares much about how clean the glasses are, I'll tell you that."

"How much do you charge for drinks?"

"Depends," Buck said. "I got a list behind the bar of what I charge, who's drinkin' for free for whatever reason, stuff like that. Glass of keg beer for a quarter."

"How do you afford to do this?"

"It's like a trade. I host these parties, someone does for me. Like Wick, down at the stable, he took a cut on his wages and drinks for free here. I bootlegged some stuff up to Kansas awhile back, and a ranch up there sent me two of my best racers. Don't go worryin' about my finances."

"Never said I was worried," she answered. She was more worried about her own finances. Twenty-five dollars was all she had in the world now. She hoped she could make a few tips tonight. She expected the crowd would be what she was used to: cowboys, truck drivers and motorcycle clubs, the same type she'd come across in truck stops.

She followed Buck over to the jukebox along the back wall, and he showed her how to change out the records. She saw he had a big collection of Hank Williams, Buck Owens, Jim Reeves and Eddy Arnold in there, but she also found the Shangri-La's, Elvis Presley, Herb Alpert, and Smokey Robinson and the Miracles. It was a pretty strange mix.

Buck took her toward the staircase, but instead of going left up the stairs, they went right. A bathroom sat on the left hand side of the small hallway and at the end was a room that was locked.

"This room back here stays locked unless someone needs it," Buck said. He handed her a bunch of keys on a chain and she slipped them into her pocket. "And I don't mean need it for anything like … well, you know. They want _that_, they rent a room upstairs. Anyone wants to rent a room, you tell 'em to talk to me."

She nodded, and kept her mouth shut. Jesus, she was gonna be running a bordello.

He told her the pool table in the back was free to use, the back porch door stayed open, and the only off-limits area was the cellar.

Her head was filled with so many things to remember, it was like sitting in school again.

"Best get dressed," he said, looking down at her. "It's a tough crowd. Somethin' tight might make you some tips."

She threw him a dirty look, but he didn't notice. She thought she _was_ dressed. She looked down at her jeans and t-shirt. They were new ones her daddy'd let her order out of the Montgomery Ward catalogue, and apparently it wasn't good enough for cowboys and truckers.

She sighed and went upstairs. All her shirt dresses made her feel like she was going to school or church, and she had none of those shorter skirts the girls liked to wear. She finally put on a cleaner pair of jeans and a western blouse.

She made a quick dinner, Buck appearing just long enough to shovel some food in his face.

"I heard some people arguing downstairs earlier," Ruby said, washing up the dishes.

Buck nodded. "That's just Dally and his girl. Stay clear of 'em."

"What kind of name is Dally?"

"It's Dallas, really," Buck said. "Just don't go bothering him. He's a pain in the ass. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes. People are gonna start showing up soon."

She locked the little apartment after she'd finished the dishes, and she could hear the twang of country music on the jukebox drifting upstairs. As she approached the second floor landing, she heard voices raised in an argument.

"I told you to hide it for me, I didn't tell you to keep it!" a girl protested. "Just give it back, Dally. He's already blown his stack about it, the longer it doesn't show up the worse it'll get, so give it back."

"Can't."

Ruby peeked over and spotted the couple. The girl was curvy and blonde, her hair in perfect curls. She wore a tight shirt and a shorter skirt, a ribbon loose in her hair. Something about how closely she stood to the man – Dallas – made Ruby feel self conscious. They'd been in that room all day and God knows what they'd been up to.

"What do you mean you can't give it back? Where did you put it?" she asked.

"Not telling," Dallas said, a teasing laziness about his speech. He was strange looking – his white blond hair was startlingly bright, and his face was all sharp angles. He wasn't handsome, especially not enough for a girl like that. He was grinning at the girl with shark-like intensity, but she didn't look intimidated.

"I've about had it with you!" she said. "That's the last time I ask you for anything. You've made everything ten times worse."

She headed down the stairs, and he followed. Ruby crept around the corner and then walked to the top of the stairs herself, drawn to this strange soap opera. Their arguing grew louder.

"You asked me for the favour, if you remember right, Syl," Dallas said. "Maybe you oughta stop asking for favours."

"Just let me go, Dallas," she said. "This is all your fault anyway."

"My fault? I was tryin' to help you out. See if that ever happens again."

"Just let me go home and deal with this. I swear to God, Dally … "

"Fine, run home, see if I care. See if I ever help you out again. You only use me anyway, ain't that right? Probably sleeping around on me, too."

"I'm _not_ arguing with you about this again!" Her voice was getting louder. "Dallas, let me go!"

Ruby heard the sounds of a scuffle and hurried down the stairs right as Dallas came into view. A beer bottle shattered against the wall near his head, and Ruby leapt back, her heart pounding.

"You fucking bitch!" Dallas spat, wiping beer off his face. A streak of blood oozed down his arm, and he looked at it incredulously. "You fuckin' cut me!"

"That's enough!" Buck bellowed. "Jesus, it's not even seven o'clock yet. Sylvia, go home. Dallas, go get cleaned up, upstairs. Cripes."

Dallas stormed up the stairs, brushing past without even seeing her. Ruby crept into the bar room slowly, broken glass and beer everywhere. The front door was wide open and the storm door was banging in the wind.

"I've been down here thirty seconds, and you've already had an assault?" Ruby asked her cousin. "What the hell kind of place is this?"

XXXX

Tim braced the rifle stock against his shoulder, staring down the barrel, aiming at the cinderblock sitting on top of two plastic milk crates. He fired, the rifle kicking against his shoulder, and saw the gouge carved into the cinderblock from the bullet. The gun wasn't too bad for a thirty-thirty, and those rounds could take that cinderblock apart in no time. Dally might just have a hard time getting this gun back.

Bill was leaning against his Chevy, watching Tim take shots alongside the highway just out of town. It was relaxing, even as his ear drums echoed at the report. He'd stuffed cotton in them, but it wasn't much protection against the boom those thirty-thirties packed.

It had been a busy few days. He was settled in back home, and that meant a few days of his mother worrying over him like he'd been away at war or something. She'd cooked for him and worried over him until Hank had gotten fed up with it. The plates had flown, the voices were raised and it was like he'd never left.

His next step had been to make sure the downtown place was still standing. The boys hadn't managed to burn the warehouse down, so that was something. He'd met with them all, spent a few hours going over all the stuff that had gone down the last three months and decided that without him, his gang had no direction. Bill had them busy themselves stealing hubs on occasion, and that was about it. He could tell his gang was restless, and restless was bad. Restless meant they were liable to make stupid decisions and get themselves in a lot of hot water, right when he needed them. He had told them all about the meeting with the Texans, but the way these fuck ups were goofing off afterward made him think he'd have to remind them all more than once.

Jesus, it was gonna look bad if his own boys couldn't be counted on.

He had gone over to Brumly and worked things out with Bobby Green. Curly wouldn't be too happy with the arrangement they'd come up with. Then again if Curly'd use his brain once in awhile Tim wouldn't have to come up with arrangements.

"You about ready?" Bill asked. "The meeting's set for eight. I wanna stop at the Dingo and get some food first. I'm starved."

Tim nodded, secured the gun in Bill's trunk and got in the car. He was dead tired of not having his own wheels. Bill had ferried him around a lot over the years, and it never got any easier being the guy in the passenger seat.

They reached the Dingo, loud and raucous on a Saturday night. Tim scanned the crowd coolly. Curly was messing around in a corner of the lot with a few of the younger guys in the gang. Pete had taken the stupid gauze wrap off his head at least, and didn't look like a messed up war casualty.

Tim got out of Bill's car and saw Ray Roth and Carl Hamilton were getting in Ray's car, and Tim motioned to them to cut the engine.

"Don't forget I need you guys at Buck's for the meeting," Tim said, approaching them. "Get over there now and make sure the place looks okay. Stay out in the bar and keep your eyes open."

"You expecting trouble?" Ray asked.

Tim shook his head. "Just a precaution."

They gunned the engine on their way out of the lot.

He spotted his sister Angela laughing with some of her friends at the picnic tables at the side of the building. She was making eyes at anything in a pair of blue jeans, and he didn't like the looks of the middle school boys who were looking at her, and he sure wasn't going to stand for the high school boys doing it. He frowned at her outfit. Angela was cutting it close with a blouse as skimpy as that, and it might be time to take the scissors to some of her clothes if she kept this up. He had no idea how their mother let her out of the house looking the way she did sometimes.

Tim spotted Two-Bit Mathews nearby and saw Bill had too.

"I'm going to get some food," Bill said, rolling his eyes at Mathews.

Two-Bit was making smart remarks to anyone stupid enough to walk by him. Bill went inside to get the food without another word. Whenever Bill's sister Kathy broke up with Two-Bit, or vice-versa, Bill ended up ignoring Mathews until Kathy changed her mind.

"Hey, look who's here, the jailbird himself," Mathews said, as Tim approached the group. He shook hands with Mathews and a few other guys like Dale Barnes and Steve Randle.

"So what's new in prison? Hear it's a laugh a minute," Two-Bit said. "Christ, they about scalped your hair off in there, huh?"

"Jail wasn't too bad. How's Kathy?" Tim replied lightly, lighting a cigarette. He didn't miss the flash of annoyance on Mathews' face and felt some satisfaction. Mathews got on his nerves sometimes. He never took anything seriously.

"I wouldn't know," Mathews answered, lighting a Lucky Strike. He jumped down off the car hood he'd been sitting on and walked away with Randle, passing by Bill as he came toward Tim with a couple burgers.

"You're making lots of friends tonight, Tim," Barnes said.

"I'm a friendly guy," he answered, running a hand through his too-short hair. It was gonna be a mess until it was longer, and he wasn't looking forward to the stares and ribbing he was going to get because of it.

Dale was looking just over Tim's shoulder and Tim saw Dale's brows knit together. Tim turned around to see what he was looking at.

A '53 Pontiac slowed on Peoria, cruising past the Dingo before it turned into the lot at the last minute. It pulled over near Curly and Pete, who were talking with Jimmy Lewis and Adam Barnes. Joe Mitchell stepped out of the car with Bobby Green.

Curly was looking around the parking lot, probably searching for him. Tim walked into the crowd that was gathering, and people moved out of the way for him. He stopped near the front end of the Pontiac, and he could feel everyone watching him even though it was the Brumly guys that were out of their neighbourhood.

Mitchell and Green were staring at Curly, and his brother looked over at him, questions in his eyes.

"Tim?" Curly asked, his voice low. A couple more Brumly guys had stepped out of the car. Tim took a long drag from his cigarette. He'd agreed it was Mitchell and Green and no one else.

Bill had just stepped out of the Dingo and was standing in the lot with a bag of food. Tim caught Bill's gaze and nodded slightly toward the other two Brumly boys. If Green broke protocol, he and Bill would have to teach them a lesson.

"Tim?" Curly asked again.

"Gotta settle up with Brumly," he said. He saw Curly's eyes widen.

Joe Mitchell and Bobby Green rushed Curly, and Tim watched dispassionately as Joe Mitchell pummelled his brother for a minute. The other two stayed by the car, and Tim counted down the thirty seconds he'd given them.

"That's enough." Tim didn't raise his voice. Bobby motioned to Joe, who let Curly go.

His brother slumped to the ground, trying not to moan as the blood flowed down his face. Mitchell and Green got back into their car with the rest of their flunkies, starting up their engine with a roar and taking off in a cloud of dust.

The crowd stared after them, then turned toward Curly and Tim, more than one person looking at Tim like he was the devil incarnate.

"Clean him up, get him to the warehouse, then you guys head to Buck's," Tim instructed Jimmy, Pete and Adam. "I've got a meeting."


	4. Meeting of the Minds

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm hoping to update twice a week - too much? (That assumes I can keep up with writing and editing it all lol). **  
**

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Meeting of the Minds**

XXXX

_**Saturday, April 9, 1966 **_

Ruby sighed as she mopped the beer off the floor. It'd taken forever and a day to get all the glass shards picked up. So far helping Buck out wasn't fun at all.

She was surprised by how many people had shown up in the last half hour. The music had gotten louder, and there were more voices, arguments, the clinking of glasses and the occasional bellow of disappointment from the pool table, where an intense game was going down.

She'd met Irene, who looked to be about a hundred years ago, even though Buck said she was only in her late thirties. She was the type her father would've said was rode hard and put away wet. Ruby joined Buck behind the bar after she got done mopping up.

"Stow those back in the kitchen," he said, looking at the mop and bucket. "I'll be mingling. Holler if you need me."

She watched him weave his lanky frame through the party-goers, and she didn't think she'd ever seen a group quite so strange. There were older men, much like her father and Buck's father, used to hard work and hard living. There were a lot of older cowboys, some men from the refineries from the smell of them, and a group had arrived on motorcycles and had commandeered a handful of tables.

What surprised her the most were all the young people. There were girls there that couldn't have been any older than sixteen, all wearing too much makeup and too little clothing. There were lots of teenage boys, some around her own age, clad in leather jackets with slicked greased hair, smoking, playing cards and making no move to hide their admiration of any half-decent looking girl that walked by.

When a boy that couldn't have been any older than sixteen asked for a beer, Buck had asked for his identification, barely glanced at what was a terrible fake one, and then served the beer up like nothing was wrong. She shouldn't have been surprised after everything, but she was.

A guy in a white t-shirt sauntered up to the bar and stood in front of her, a knowing smile on his face. Even though everyone else was as greased up as he was, there was something oily about him, and it wasn't his hair.

"I'll have an Old Milwaukee," he said, tapping his ID card on the bar. "Locked up in back."

Ruby groaned inwardly at his snake-like smile, which she figured he thought looked roguish and charming. It made her want to shudder.

She took the keys from her pocket and walked into the kitchen, looking over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't following. She opened the pantry, picked the beer out of one of the tubs and locked up. When she turned around, the boy was standing there.

"You're not supposed to be back here," she said, her heart beating in her throat. She brushed past him and went to the bar, searching for a church key to open the can. The boy sauntered out behind her and faced her at the bar, pulling a church key out of his back pocket like she'd think he was a magician or something.

He opened his own beer can, slid some change across the counter, and didn't move his hand when she went to collect it. He grinned at her and slid his hand away, and she tried not to shudder as she swept the warm coins into her hand and under the bar to deposit them in the jar Buck had going. The boy winked at her, then moved into the crowd.

She let out a breath.

"Don't pay Ray any mind," Irene said, walking over. "He's a sleaze ball. 'Course half the hooligans in this place are sleaze balls. You'll get used to it."

Irene disappeared into the back with a tray of dirty glasses. Ruby looked around at the crowd, not quite sure how she'd been roped into this.

XXXX

Bill pulled the car into the lot at Buck's at seven-thirty. The lot was already filled with motorcycles, souped up cars and people. Tim could hear the loud twanging music from inside and cursed Buck. He played some of the damndest shit. But the beer was cheap and so were the girls, so he cut him some slack.

"Tell the guys to keep their eyes open," Tim said. "I want eyes all over in case this goes south. Go get some drinks when we get in there, I'll find a table."

He got out of Bill's car and walked inside.

He thought the decibel level may have dropped slightly when he walked in, but he wasn't sure. He glanced at the bar, then looked towards the back corner of the bar room, past the jukebox, and saw some people crowded around the table he liked. As he walked towards it, people moved out of his way. He liked to think the scar got him attention he wouldn't gotten have otherwise.

He stood at the table, a round one tucked into the back corner near a window. The folks there looked at him for a moment, then the two couples moved out of the seats quickly.

Tim sat down with his back to most of the room. He could see everyone reflected in the big window. Most people might think he was stupid for sitting with his back to the door – you never did that unless you wanted to get jumped from behind – but they'd be surprised if someone tried it. He'd see them coming easy.

He lit a cigarette and took a long drag, then slowly looked to his right, appraising the crowd around a raucous poker game. The scenery hadn't changed much since he was out those few weeks in February. The girl he'd seen behind the bar when he'd walked in was new, though. He could see her reflected in the window, busying herself behind the bar. She was small, with dark hair, and he knew he'd never seen her in here before. Things might be looking up if Buck had decided to hire waitresses that looked more like her and less like Irene.

Sylvia wasn't around, and for that matter, neither was Dallas, and that was something. They were probably upstairs in a room having a fight or making up from one. He also didn't spot Carolyn West, and he was both relieved and disappointed. He didn't like mixing business with pleasure, and her ripe lips and dangerous curves were definitely pleasure. But it sure would've been nice to have her waiting when he was done his meeting.

Bill came to the table and handed him a beer, and Tim sat back and lazily watched everyone. He liked to tune out the noise, the people around him, and just look. There was a lot you could tell just by looking at people, even their reflection in a window.

Pamela Kingston was hard up for Jimmy Lewis, but he was so thick into his poker game he wouldn't notice until he lost, which he was going to with a hand like that. Tony Cochrane was worried his girl Elaine was stepping out on him from the way Tony was watching her chat up Eddie Demarco by the jukebox. Ray Roth was hitting on a girl near the hall, and from the looks of it, striking out. Carl Hamilton and Adam Barnes were arm wrestling at a small table, and Carl put Adam down twice in a row.

Tim glanced at the clock above the bar. Quarter to eight. He cracked his knuckles in anticipation.

XXXX

"Go see if anyone needs more drinks," Buck said from behind the bar, handing her a pad of paper and a pencil.

"Thought Irene was your waitress?" Ruby asked. She liked it behind the bar. She'd met more people in forty-five minutes than she had in her life. Most of them were pretty decent, too.

"Just go," Buck said, shoving her back lightly.

She circled around, taking a few orders, and earning more than enough wary looks from some of the girls, even the ones younger than her. She hoped it was just because she was new. Looks like that were why leaving high school had been a relief.

She approached a table at the back, her gaze on a dark-haired guy around her own age. She figured he must've come in with the chatty guy with the sunglasses who'd talked to her for a good five minutes at the bar, but she couldn't remember seeing him come in.

He had dark curly hair, much shorter than everyone else's, and a sharp profile. He gazed out the window every so often, as if he wasn't really in the room with everyone else. She had the unnerving feeling he was watching her as she approached, and when she reached the table, she saw his dark eyes sweep to the right, appraising her.

He turned his head slowly, tilted his chin up to look at her, and she inhaled sharply. The right side of his face was as handsome as she'd anticipated from his profile, but the left was horribly scarred, a deep line running from his temple to his chin. She locked gazes with him and swore she saw mirthful amusement in his, as if he'd seen her surprise and liked it. She recovered quickly and put on a smile.

"Can I get you boys anything?"

The one with the scar stood up slowly, only inches away from her.

"Can we talk?"

She backed up a little, suddenly nervous about how close he was to her, but she managed to nod. She inhaled sharply, afraid he was angry that she'd reacted to his face. He was so close she could smell his aftershave, and the butterflies swirled around in her stomach.

He moved away from her deftly, cutting through the crowd, and it seemed the people actually parted like the Red Sea to let him through. Ruby looked around, watching everyone watch this guy. He stopped in the hallway and turned around suddenly to face her.

"I need that back room," he said. "For a meeting."

"Oh, well … um, you should probably talk to - to Buck," she said, her face getting hot at how awkwardly the words tumbled out of her mouth.

"You've got the keys."

She looked at him in surprise and followed his gaze. He was looking towards her right hip, the keys nestled in her right back pocket. She felt her face get hot, wondering what he'd been looking at to notice them there. She picked the keys out slowly and looked up at him again. His eyes looked like pools of black tar. He held her gaze without breaking it, neither challenging nor pressuring.

She walked past him to the locked door and it took a minute for her to find the right key and open the door. He walked into the room, then turned to face her.

"My buddy's gonna bring two men in here with him around eight. You follow 'em in, take drink orders and bring 'em right away, then don't so much as breathe on the door."

He was facing her, like he was a general giving orders to an army. She wasn't sure she quite liked it.

"And if I happen to breathe on the door?" she asked archly.

He stepped towards her, then bent his head down close to hers and she shivered in spite of the warmth.

"You ain't gonna wanna do that," he whispered. She took in a sharp breath, then backed away, but relaxed when she saw the hint of a smile on his face. She was about to smile back, but he shut the door on her, and she was standing in the hallway alone.

XXXX

"Hey Buck?" Ruby asked, wandering behind the bar where her cousin stood counting change. "Who's the guy with the scar?"

"Big one down his face? That's Tim Shepard, and you'd do best to stay away from him," Buck said. "He just did a few months in prison over in Arkansas from what I hear. He probably tried to beat someone to death or something. He runs a gang, and he's in jail more than not. A pile of trouble."

"He's using your back room," she said, watching the door.

"Ain't nothin' unusual about that," Buck said. She watched him clumsily move around behind the bar and figured he was pretty soused. A lot of good he'd be in a pinch.

"Tim Shepard runs with that kid Ray that was hitting on you, if you could call it that," Irene said. "All a bunch of hoodlums."

Ruby kept her eye on the front door, and soon she spotted two men come into the bar and figured these were the ones Tim Shepard was waiting on, since they were too well dressed to fit in at Buck's. One wore a big cowboy hat and a fancy belt buckle, while the other wore a tailored western jacket and bolo tie, a silver clasp. The chatty guy with the sunglasses walked over to them, shook hands with both of them and started to walk towards the back room.

She could tell the men he were meeting were from Texas, likely Dallas/Fort Worth from the twang, which was as different from the slow West Texas drawl she was used to hearing as could be.

She skimmed her fingers over the gun under the bar, then grabbed the tray with the pad of paper and a pen and followed them into the back room.

XXXX

The two Texans came into the room ahead of Bill, and Tim approached, introduced himself and shook hands with them both. The dark haired girl had followed, and she looked more than a little nervous. The gun sticking out of the holster on one guy's hip was probably the reason. Tim looked at her carefully and when she finally met his gaze, he nodded slightly, trying to encourage her to get on with it.

She pasted a smile on, asked for their orders and sashayed out, returning a few minutes later with a bourbon and soda for the one with the big cowboy hat who called himself Dirty Dave and a Texas Bud for his henchman. Tim already knew the score between these two, just by looking. Dave carried no weapons, while the one who'd introduced himself as Roy had at least two guns under his jacket and likely a knife in his boot, if not two. He assumed Dave coasted by on reputation, whether it be earned or not, and relied on Roy to enforce any beefs.

Always be willing to do yourself what you ask of your men, Tim thought. It'd be a cold day in hell before he'd arm Bill to the nines to watch over his ass instead of doing it himself.

They sat down around the big table and spent a few minutes shooting the breeze. The Texans had called the meeting, hearing about him from Marty, his connection in Biloxi. Marty would've been a decent addition to the gang, but he was older, used to being on his own, and didn't want to set foot back in Tulsa after what happened with Big Mikey Dean. Instead, Marty ran his own deal in Biloxi and was turning out to be good at hooking Tim up with the things he needed to take his gang to the next level.

Tim asked nothing about why the Texans were there, waiting on Dave to bring it up. No need to sound eager, no use in seeming like he needed them. He smiled to himself when Dave broached the subject and celebrated his victory in getting Dave to speak of the reason for their meeting first.

"You heard, I guess, that we need a guy up this way," Dave said, ashing his cigarette on a cut glass ashtray.

Tim just nodded.

"We need a guy with a truck," Dave said.

"What kind?"

"A rig. At least a forty-eight foot trailer," Dave said. "Licensed here is fine. Apportioned is fine."

"I got one," Tim said, leaning back in his chair, doing his best to look bored and uninterested.

Dave nodded. "Alright then. We'll need you to move some stuff for us on occasion. Nothing steady just yet, across a few state lines. We'll see how you do. We lost our last driver, got pinched speeding by the highway patrol, and he had a warrant on him."

Tim nodded again. "I don't got any warrants, so you don't have to worry there. You've come to the right place. What kind of stuff are we talking?"

He was hoping they wouldn't mention drugs. After the disaster with his gang over a year ago, he wasn't sure he wanted to get the gang involved in it again, but if it was just moving things from one city to another it might not be a problem.

Curly smoked grass on occasion, and he knew Curly thought he didn't know a thing about it. Curly was making it damn hard for him – how was he supposed to turn Curly into someone worth following if he was always pulling stupid stunts? Falling off telephone poles, letting guys from Brumly take the fall, getting caught by the truant officer of all people. It was damn embarrassing sometimes and smoking grass wasn't making him any smarter or any closer to being Tim's right hand man. The last thing he needed to be doing was trucking that shit into Tulsa.

"What you'll haul will change up most times," Dave answered. He glanced around, like he thought the walls might have ears. "Cars, parts, merchandise. Lots of beer up here and to Kansas. Some homemade stuff, too. Weapons on occasion."

Tim nodded again. "Texas, Oklahoma and Kansas for now?"

Dave nodded. "Sometimes into Arkansas, maybe Louisiana. We need someone reliable. Someone we can call in a pinch and have him there, ready to go."

Tim bit his tongue about Louisiana. "You got your man, then."

"It might be a couple weeks before we can get you a run," Dave said. "Might not be anything until the beginning of May, even. That alright?"

Tim nodded. It was more than alright.

They discussed a few more details about payment and finished their drinks, then shook hands and Bill went to show the Texans out. Tim leaned against the door frame after they'd left and let out a low sigh.

"Guess I gotta find me a truck."

* * *

**A/N: **Well, Tim seems a little in over his head if he promised something he didn't have, huh? If you want to find out more about Ray Roth, visit Artemis Rex and read her fic "Saving Grace".


	5. Saturday Night's Alright

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Another chapter where I added a significant amount. Ray Roth was originally created by Artemis Rex, who lets me borrow him and cause havoc, and for that I'm grateful.

Thank you all for the reviews – I love to hear your ideas and what you think. Since I'm re-writing such a huge amount of this fic, things are definitely open to change, so your feedback is really helpful.

* * *

**Chapter 5 - Saturday Night's Alright**

XXXX

_**Saturday, April 9, 1966 **_

Tim leaned against the door of the back room after the Texans left, trying to figure out how he was going to get himself a semi truck and trailer. He had answered the way he knew they needed him to. It had always worked before – you said yes, then you figured it out. Only this was a lot to figure out. His saving grace was they didn't need him right away.

He couldn't blow this opportunity. A trucking run didn't sound like much on the surface, but it was what you could get with it that was important to Tim. A run meant making connections with people in different cities, being seen as reliable and trusted by another outfit. Depending on what kind of cargo they'd be carrying, he could make inroads with bootleggers, gun runners, pushers, gamblers and more. He could start to build his reputation and that of his gang.

Tulsa was ripe for the picking. There wasn't an organized crime network in the city, but with all the construction on the river and the talk of a port in Catoosa, he knew it was just a matter of time before someone – maybe from Kansas City, maybe from Dallas – got their hooks into Tulsa. The Shepard gang had to be ready.

He sighed, staring ahead at the window. All he saw was his own reflection looking back at him between ratted curtains that didn't quite stretch across the window. The next few weeks were going to make or break them.

Bill came back into the room a minute later, shutting the door on the noise from the party. Tim could feel the nervous energy coming off Bill like fog off the river. Bill began pacing the room, a nervous trait he rarely saw from his right-hand-man. The staccato raps of Bill's boots were giving him a headache.

Bill paused and looked over at him.

"Don't start," Tim warned.

Bill let out a breath. "You just had to tell them you already had a truck and trailer. Jesus, Tim! How on God's green earth are we gonna find a truck and a forty-eight foot trailer? They don't just leave those hanging around, you know."

It agitated him when Bill paced. He was a pretty easygoing guy, but when he got riled up … he got riled up. It took a lot to shake Bill, and it was making him nervous to see how ill at ease Bill was. There were deep lines furrowed in Bill's brow, and he resumed his pacing, walking around the poker table like he was aiming to cut a channel in the floor.

"I'll think of something," Tim said.

"You'll think of something?" Bill ran a hand through his hair. "Well, that's just great."

"I ever let you down before?" Tim asked. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and struck a match on his thumb nail. He took a drag, hoping it would calm the nerves Bill was causing. He felt like an elastic band pulled taut, and he hated that. Bill just needed to calm the fuck down.

Bill was still pacing the room, moving around the table like a turkey vulture circling a kill. Tim took another drag of his cigarette then held it out to Bill. He hesitated before grabbing it and taking a drag. He grimaced.

"Fuckin' hate these menthol cigarettes," he muttered, looking at the Kool like it was poison. He handed it back to Tim. "How the hell are we gonna pull this off? You think those chucklehead delinquents we got out there are gonna be able to find a semi-truck? They can't even find their own dicks."

Tim smothered a smile.

"I told you I'd think of something," Tim said. "For now I ain't telling them shit about what's going on. Just tell them the meeting went well. We'll figure out the truck. Go grab a drink and calm yourself down."

Bill gave him a look and rolled his eyes.

"Look, you wanna lose this opportunity? Cuz I sure don't," Tim said. "We tell the Texans exactly what they wanna hear, then we figure it out after. We always do."

Bill sighed. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess. Only some day that luck's gonna run out, you know. You'll run out of ideas one day, mark my words."

"We got some time," Tim said. "Dirty Dave said it'd be a few weeks, maybe even a month before they'd need us. That gives us time."

"Yeah," Bill said. "And in that time you gotta find a truck, find a trailer _and_ learn to drive it."

Bill opened the door and the country music from the jukebox assaulted Tim's ears. He shut the door to muffle the sound and frowned.

Dammit.

He had to learn to drive it, too.

XXXX

Ruby had watched the Texans go, wary of them as they moved through the crowd. She stayed near Buck's gun as they made their way out the door, shaking hands with the chatty one and getting into a big truck out in the dirt lot. She watched their tail lights disappear down the street and turned her attention to the door of the back room. The chatty guy had gone back in and shut the door.

"Hope you still got some beer nice and cold."

Ruby stood up straight and looked over to her right to see the dark haired boy from before, Ray. He looked two sheets to the wind already, and she imagined he must've been out drinking in the parking lot since he'd been blessedly absent since their run-in earlier. She opened the small fridge behind the bar and picked out a can of Hamm's and handed it to him.

He closed his hand around hers and the beer and didn't let go.

"What's your name?"

"Ruby," she answered tersely. "Ruby Merril."

He reacted a little at the last name, but still didn't let her hand go.

"Related to Buck?"

"He's my cousin."

He nodded a little and looked her up and down. "Don't look much alike. Lucky for you."

She nipped a smile in the bud. Buck wasn't ugly by any means, although those teeth sure didn't do anything for his appearance. His hair was sandy blond and hers was dark like her mother's. She didn't take after the Merril side of the family in the looks department.

"Name's Ray," he said, his hand still over hers. "Ray Roth."

"You gonna let go of my hand or do I have to cut it off?" Ruby asked. Ray laughed and winked at her and let her hand go slowly, his fingertips sliding over her own and making her stomach churn. She dropped her hand below the bar once he let go, wiping it off on her blue jeans.

"Are you workin' all night?" he asked, downing half the beer in just a few gulps.

"Yeah," she said, wiping the bar down with a damp cloth. He was gorgeous, she'd give him that. He had dark brown hair, and chiseled cheek bones that would have looked harsh on him if it wasn't for the full mouth. His eyes were what she noticed though – they were a chocolate brown and a bit of a dream. But she didn't like that smile.

"Get off early," he said, downing the last of the beer and following her as she walked to the end of the bar. He blocked her way as she tried to head out onto the floor with her tray.

"I can't do that," she said. She tried to move past him, and he blocked her movement again.

"It'd be a hell of a lot more fun than hangin' around here," he said, leaning close to her. She could feel his breath on her cheek and smelled Old Spice and cigarettes. "I can promise that much."

"I'll pass," she said, looking up into his eyes and backing up a little. He had blocked her way so completely that she couldn't move without sliding herself past him, which he had probably intended for her to do.

"I don't think so," Ray said, his voice in her hair. He clamped a hand around her upper arm.

"Let me go."

"Come out with me later," he said, that smile on his face again, cruel and charming all at the same time. "I'll show you a real good time."

"No. Now let me go, I ain't gonna ask you again."

"Ray, you wanna get your greasy hands off my cousin," Buck said, telling, not asking.

"This ain't your business, Buck," Ray said, his gaze still on Ruby. She looked over at Buck, pleading with her eyes for him to get this guy off of her. Buck weaved a little as he approached.

"My cousin, my business. Get your hands off her and get the hell outta my place, you ain't welcome," Buck said, grabbing at Ray's arm and trying to yank him off of her.

"Like hell," Ray snarled, dropping his grip on Ruby so quickly she stumbled against the bar. Before she had time to right herself, Ray had hauled off and punched Buck square in the mouth. Her cousin stumbled back and hit the back of his head on the pool table, and a woman screamed somewhere.

"Dammit!" she heard Buck say from the floor. "You knocked out my teef!"

"Buck?"

Ruby tried to move over to where he was laying on the floor, spitting out blood and teeth. One front tooth was missing entirely, and the other was split right in half, and blood poured down Buck's face. Two guys who had been playing pool in the other room were helping him to his feet.

Ray grabbed her arm, preventing her from getting to Buck.

"Let's get outta here," he said, pulling on her.

"No!" she said struggling against him. "I wouldn't go with you if you were the last guy on earth!"

He was still trying to pull her, and his grip was like a vise on her arm. She tried to yank her arm away, then pushed against him. No one had made any move to help her.

She tried to pull her arm away, cried out at the pain, then looked Ray in the eye before she spat right in his face.

"Dumb bitch!"

He let go of her arm suddenly and she stumbled, not seeing his open palm coming until it was too late. He smacked her across the face and she stumbled backwards, her jaw snapping shut and catching her lip. Her cheek stung from the force of his slap, and she tasted blood. She felt her lip, already beginning to swell, and her fingers came away smudged with blood.

The crowd had quieted, watching the fireworks.

"What the hell's goin' on out here?" an even voice said.

The jukebox started to change songs, and it was quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Everyone turned towards the hallway. Tim Shepard walked slowly towards them, looking at Buck, then Ruby and Ray. He tucked an unlit cigarette behind his ear and stood facing Ray, who didn't answer him.

Suddenly, Tim Shepard hauled off and punched Ray in the face with no warning, not once, but twice. Ray spun around into the bar with the last punch, hit his head against the edge of the bar and slumped onto the floor.

The bar was silent, then the jukebox began to play Fontella Bass, of all things. The chatty guy hauled Ray up off the floor and outside as people started to get back to their drinks and the dance floor.

Ruby was shaking as Tim approached her. He stood in front of her for a second, studying her face with his cool, dark eyes, then pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket. She stared at his hands, the knuckles red, and he reached for her, tilting her face up. He wet the end of the handkerchief with his tongue and pressed the cloth to her lip gently.

"Keep pressure on it 'til the bleedin' stops," he said, his voice low, as if it was meant only for her. "Then ice it down so it won't swell too much."

She nodded, then swallowed hard as he took her hand with his free one and brought it up to her face, making her press the cloth to her own lip. Tim glanced over at Buck, who had collected his busted teeth from the floor.

"Ray won't be botherin' you no more," he said.

Ruby watched Tim walk outside into the darkness and stared at his silhouette, his face softly lit as he struck a match and lit his cigarette before walking into the black.

* * *

**A/N: **And so it begins ...

Comments are welcome, and if there's someone you're interested in seeing, let me know who!


	6. Step Into My Office

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note: **So my twice a week updates go off the rail one week in lol. This chapter was a hard one to add to and re-write, and I'm relieved it's finally done! Thank you again for all of the awesome reviews, I appreciate it so much. Any suggestions for characters you want to see, etc, let me know!

* * *

**Chapter 6 – Step Into My Office**

XXXX

_**Sunday, April 10, 1966 **_

Tim turned over on the mattress, burying his face in a mess of Carolyn West's hair. He tried to brush it out of his way, but it was everywhere. He sat up, his eyes half closed against the light shining in from the small window. His head was pounding, and he felt sluggish and half-dead.

"What time is it?" he mumbled.

"Nine." Carolyn sounded awake and sober. "Go back to sleep."

After leaving Buck's he'd run into her at the Dingo. He'd ditched Bill and took her back to the warehouse. It'd been months since he'd had the pleasure, and Carolyn had been willing and more than capable of exhausting him. They'd had a few drinks, had sex until the wee hours and fell asleep in a room he kept a spare mattress in.

She got out of the bed and wiggled back into her clothes. Her hair, usually pinned up in curls, was hanging loose and straight around her shoulders. Tim could see her dark roots growing in, and her mascara had smudged under her eyes, making her look tired and sad.

That was the thing with Carolyn. She _was_ tired and sad. He couldn't spend more than a few hours with her without seeing it, remembering it. It made him sad for her, and was one reason why he was never going to be in her bed permanent-like.

"You wanna come over for Easter dinner?" she asked, leaning over and trying to nibble at his neck. He dodged away from her.

"No," he said. "You go on home."

She pouted, then rolled her eyes. She'd stick to him like a starfish if he let her. She had other safe harbours when times were tough at home – he knew that – and he didn't begrudge her them either. Fate had saddled her with a bad situation, but he wasn't any white knight. Sometimes she forgot.

She said a soft goodbye, kissed his temple and slipped out of the room, and it was the quietest parting they'd ever had. She was quiet when things were at their worst at home. He hoped she'd be going home to a decent day, not one where she'd end up scared and hiding in a closet at Buck's.

He rolled over in the bed, closed his eyes against the light and tried to shake the hangover. It did no good to think of Carolyn. He couldn't save her. He could barely keep a roof over his own family's heads.

He opened his eyes and studied his bruised knuckles for a moment. Roth had a pretty hard face. He hadn't had much choice but to knock him out last night; Roth knew better than to beat on a girl when he was around. The last thing he needed was Buck refusing to serve any of his gang at his place, and he wasn't into manipulating him like ol' Dally did.

The girl behind the bar surprised him. He'd come out to see Ray yanking on her arm, Buck bloodied on the floor, and he got the gist - Ray was drunk and dangerous. Instead of making a racket, the girl had spit in Roth's face, and it was all he could do not to laugh about it. The chick was lucky he'd been there – Roth wouldn't have cared either way about wailing on her, girl or not.

He thought someone said she was Buck's cousin. It'd explain why Buck Merril, who wouldn't say boo to a ghost, had tried to get Roth away from her. He didn't know Merril had any cousins, especially not a girl.

She wasn't his type – he liked blondes – but there was something about the way she looked at him, her lip bleeding, her silver dollar eyes staring at him, and her chest rising and falling with each breath that he couldn't get out of his head.

He climbed off the mattress and stood up, cracking his back and neck, then used the can in the factory next door, quiet and ghostly on Easter Sunday. He'd forgotten. That meant he'd have to be at home for dinner or his mother would scalp him worse than the State of Arkansas had.

He looked into the mirror, splashed some water on his ruined face then studied the hair. Jesus, he looked like a pansy. He scrubbed his hair with some tap water, then grabbed the tin of Dixie Peach from his office and greased his hair up. It looked a little better than it had, but was going to look like shit no matter what until it grew a little.

He headed out and back to the North side, the weather warm but not sweltering. He walked in the front door of his house to Angela hollering. She'd been such a quiet baby, he had no idea she'd grow into her lungs like she did. God help the man she married.

Angel squeezed past him out the front door, their mother admonishing her to be back before dinner.

"Yeah, yeah," Angel muttered.

Tim grabbed her arm before she could get too far away.

"Where're you going?"

"What do you care?" she asked. He stared her down, and she rolled her eyes. "Over to a friend's. I'll be back. Trust me, she's on a rampage about Easter dinner, I won't miss it."

He let her arm go, and she danced down the steps and through the grass. His mother appeared a moment later. Her hair was done, and she was awake and with it.

"Timothy, you didn't come home last night," she said.

"Stayed at Bill's."

"Hmm," his mothered answered, collecting her purse and coat, and giving him a look. Hank was trailing behind her, dressed in a suit and tie. "We'll be home from church in a few hours. Whatever you do, don't miss dinner tonight. And put on something decent."

"Yeah, ma," he said. Hank gave him the eye as he headed out, but kept his mouth shut. His mother was a real bear about church holidays. They were the only time of year he could count on Hank to shut up and do as he was told.

Tim wandered into the kitchen and grabbed the pot of coffee – cold – and shook his head. Nobody did a damn thing for him around here. The floor boards creaked, and he turned to see Curly entering the kitchen. His nose was set, so that meant his mother had hauled him off to a doctor on a Saturday night. Tim sighed. No wonder she had looked at him with that look. A doctor's bill was just what they needed.

Curly's eyes were both blackened and swollen, but he was still alive at least.

"Why'd you have to let the Brumly guys hit my face of all places?" Curly mumbled. He grabbed a glass of orange juice, and Tim followed him to the living room. "They coulda stayed with the midsection, I was 'sposed to take out Debbie, and she doesn't wanna be seen with me, my face all like this."

"Because you're an idiot," Tim said. "You don't go stealin' a car and let them take the fall for it, it looks bad on me you chickened out and let their boy go down for it. We just got things hammered out with Brumly, and you almost fucked it all up tryin' to get away from the cops."

"I can't get caught no more or it's the reformatory," Curly said. "I had to run."

His face was pretty swollen, and Tim felt a bit guilty looking at it. He had let Mitchell and Green go too hard on Curly. Next rumble they had, he'd pop Mitchell a few, whether Brumly was on their side or not.

"You get going for awhile," Tim said. "I didn't sleep well, I want the house."

"I bet you didn't." Curly attempted to grin at him, but couldn't manage it. "Pete said he saw you with Carolyn last night."

"Just get lost, will you?" Tim looked skyward. "I got a headache."

"Hungover …" Curly mumbled, standing up and pulling a shirt on with some trouble.

Tim let the comment pass. Curly was always angry after he got his ass beat, and he couldn't blame him.

"Hey, how'd that meeting go?" Curly asked, half way out the door.

Tim glanced over. "Alright. I'll tell you more next time we all meet. Go find out if Roth's got any brain damage."

"I heard you busted him up good."

Tim shrugged.

"You can't keep beating us all up," Curly said. "Otherwise there won't be no gang."

"He was beating on a girl at Buck's," Tim said. "Even I don't stand for that."

Curly shrugged, then left. The house was quiet for only a few minutes when Bill walked in the back door.

"So you have any idea where in God's name we're going to get a truck?" he asked, without any hellos. "I still can't believe you told them you had one. Damn near choked on my beer. Woke up this morning and hoped it was all a nightmare."

"You ever gonna give it a rest?" Tim asked. "You need to get drunk or laid."

"Done and done," Bill said. "Didn't help. You got any ideas?"

"Dunno," Tim said, picking up the paper and flipping over to the editorials.

"Them Texas boys could call any time."

"They said a few weeks at least," Tim said. "We got time. I'm gonna go talk to Winston tomorrow. If I remember right, he knows something about trucks. I'll see if he knows anyone."

"You sure you want Dally to know about this?" Bill asked.

Tim shrugged. "I'm not tellin' everything."

"Still."

"I heard at the Dingo last night that quiet kid Dally runs with got jumped real bad."

"Yeah, everybody's talking about it, seems it was real bad. He's laid up at the Curtis place, is what I heard from Kathy," Bill said. "Probably find Dally over there too."

Tim nodded. "I'll go over to the Curtis place tomorrow. For now, not a word that we don't got that truck."

XXXX

_**Monday, April 11, 1966**_

After a tense Easter dinner the night before, which ended with a broken rabbit figurine, two smashed pink hard boiled eggs and some bourbon and tears, Tim woke up the next morning in his own bed, wishing he was at the warehouse. It was becoming harder and harder to stick around this place, but rent was due on the fifteenth, and it wasn't like Hank was going to stop pouring it down his throat. He was hoping he could score a couple hubs, sell them and cover a little of the rent. Hank would have to shut up, and they'd have a roof for thirty more days.

Angela was screaming blue murder about something and Tim got up and pounded the wall to shut her up and heard a volley of cusses tossed back his way.

He had a shower, then wandered around the neighbourhood and over to Curtis territory in the late afternoon. He liked to think of it more like Curtis "territory" since it was right in the middle of Shepard land. They weren't much of a gang, and Tim would have reign over the area if he needed it. It was easy to let them think it was theirs.

He skirted past the abandoned lot and down the street, toward the white house on the corner. He slowed down as he spotted the lone figure walking toward the house from the other direction.

"Sylvia," he said.

"I heard a rumour you were out of jail," she asked. "I'd bet good money there were some shenanigans involved. Think I can get a decent reward if I turn you in?"

"They wouldn't pay more than a nickel for me," he said.

She gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh, I don't know about that."

"Missed you at Buck's the other night."

Her face clouded over. "Yeah … well. Have you seen Dallas?"

She bit her lower lip, and a small frown creased the centre of her forehead.

"Looking for him myself," he said.

He followed her up the walk toward the Curtis place, noticing the dark bruise circling her upper arm. She pulled her sleeve down, covering it, without realizing he saw.

She knocked on the door – first time he'd seen anyone do that – and he reached around her and pushed the door open. She glanced at him over a shoulder, and he shrugged at her.

"You know anyone who locks their doors around here?"

The younger Curtis kid was lying on the floor with a book and scrambled up when he saw them come in.

"Hey, Tim," he said. He glanced at Sylvia for less than a second. "Hi."

"Hi, Ponyboy," Sylvia said, forcing a smile despite the kid's cool greeting. Tim smothered one of his own. He knew Sylvia - she wanted to spit nails at the kid.

"I'm lookin' for Dallas," Tim said.

"He went out for cigarettes," Ponyboy said.

Tim glanced down at the couch, where the dark-haired kid was laid up. Sylvia glanced over and he could hear the sharp intake of her breath as she got a look at him.

He didn't look so hot.

He was worse off than Curly, that was for sure. Black stitches stood out against his tanned skin, and Tim could tell the kid would have a scar for the rest of his life because of it. His eyes were a dark purple, swollen so badly it was hard to tell whether they were open or shut. His lip was split, and his face swollen to the point where Tim wouldn't have recognized the kid if he hadn't already known it was him.

"Hey, kid," Tim said.

The dark haired kid – he couldn't remember his name – managed to squeeze out a hello.

"Johnny?" Sylvia asked, shock evident in her voice. She hadn't recognized him.

She looked over at Tim, horrified, then cleared away a spot on the coffee table and sat down.

"Dal said he'd – he'd be back soon," the kid croaked out.

"Don't you bother with talking," Sylvia said, shushing the kid. "It probably hurts something awful."

Tim turned, wanting to go outside, have a smoke and escape the sight of the kid's face, but the screen creaked as Dallas walked in.

Dally's gaze went from troubled to worse as he saw Tim standing there near Sylvia, who was leaning over Johnny and talking to him in low tones.

"Don't this look cozy," Dallas said.

Tim resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but Sylvia wasn't having any of it.

"Does what look cozy, Dallas? The fact I've had to hunt all around town for you? Or the part where you never called me after Saturday?"

"After Saturday?" he asked, incredulous. "Jesus Christ, you're something else. Shepard, what the hell are you doing here?"

"Don't ignore me, Dallas," Sylvia said. "We have some things to settle, and I didn't come all this way over here to have you pretend nothing's wrong."

She stood up, her hands on her hips, and Tim saw the dark-haired kid give a resigned sigh.

"Oh, something's wrong all right, you showing up here with Shepard and hangin' offa Johnny like you are."

"Oh, this is rich," Sylvia said. "This isn't the time to get jealous."

"You think I'm jealous?" Dallas looked up at the ceiling, and Tim had no idea what he thought he'd find up there. "You oughta get your head examined."

Sylvia was about to protest, and Tim didn't have time for this. They fought like cats and dogs, and their little argument could go on all day.

"Hey, Winston, you want to step into my office for a minute? I gotta talk to you about something," Tim said.

Sylvia snapped her mouth shut and rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Johnny on the couch.

"Dallas is just mad because I threw a beer bottle at him," she told the kid.

Tim bit down on a smile. Dallas was looking at her with veiled anger.

"She threw and missed," he said.

"Winston," Tim broke in. "I ain't got all day."

Dallas looked over at him, then cocked his head toward the screen door, and Tim followed him outside.

"Heard the kid got jumped, but I never seen anything like that," Tim said.

"Socs got 'em," Dallas said. "Nobody saw a damn thing. He's got a couple broken ribs, but did you see what they did to his face? Those guys are gonna pay for that."

Tim had never seen Dally so agitated, and that was saying something. Dally got irritated by just about everything, but he seemed to be a hair's breath away from completely losing his mind.

"Heard you cracked Roth a good one the other night," Dally said, lighting a Kool. Tim didn't miss Dally's glance at his bruised knuckles, and he resisted the urge to hide them away.

"He deserved it."

"Way I heard it was you were playing the knight in shining armour and rescued some broad."

"You heard it wrong," Tim said. "'Sides, I don't think she needed rescuing. Roth's face just needed a little punching."

"Ain't that the truth." Dally sucked on his cigarette and blew a thin stream of smoke out the side of his mouth. "So what's up?"

"I need a truck," Tim said, deciding not to beat around the bush. "A rig, at least a forty-eight foot trailer. I thought you might know someone."

Dally looked at him with narrowed eyes. "This ain't about Sylvia?"

Tim looked at him and shook his head in frustration. "I ran into her looking for you. You oughta see someone about your paranoia."

"Fuck off." Dallas took a drag of his cigarette again. "What do you need a truck like that for?"

"Business opportunity," Tim said. "You find me a truck, and I'll cut you in ten percent of the first run."

"Fifty."

"Fuck you." Sometimes he hated dealing with Dally and the boys he ran with. They never knew when to stop. Tim started walking toward the street.

"Fifty percent's a good deal."

"So's fifteen," Tim countered.

"Forty."

Tim flicked the end of his cigarette, watching the ashes fall. They could be at this all day.

"Twenty, and that's my final, I don't care if you wanna play games all day long. I got better things to do."

"I'll keep my eyes open. But I'm supposed to be ridin' for Buck soon, I may not have the time."

They paused outside the front gate of the Curtis place.

"You only get the money if you can get the truck," Tim said, trying to figure out why Dallas wasn't jumping all over the offer.

"What's it for?"

"I told you. Business opportunity."

"You know I'll find out anyway."

Tim didn't bother with a reply. Dallas probably didn't have a clue about where to get a truck. If he did, he'd be all over it. Using Buck's as an excuse was just a way to save face.

He watched as Dally's gaze drifted back to the house. Sylvia was standing in the door way watching them, her curves filling out her dress just right. Dallas was staring at her, a look that bordered on longing. Dally was getting soft.

"If you ain't interested, I can find someone who is," Tim said, looking back at Dally again.

"I never said I wasn't interested."

"Didn't have to," Tim said, nodding towards the house with a knowing grin. "I can see you'd rather play The Bickerson's with your girl than make some dough."

"So I guess knockin' Roth out had nothin' to do with the chick with the nice ass behind the bar, huh?" Dally asked, his voice laced with practiced innocence.

Tim laughed. Dally always could match him point for point.

"Just keep your eyes open for a truck," Tim said, slapping Dally on the back good-naturedly. "Don't breathe a word to no one either."

Dally nodded, and they shook hands.

Tim started walking along the street when he turned back.

"Dallas."

Dally looked at him, and in that moment he decided it was better if Dallas saw the mark on Sylvia himself. Telling would do him no good; Dallas was paranoid enough.

"Never mind."

Tim watched him go back into the Curtis place where his girl was waiting. Tim walked down St. Louis toward downtown.

* * *

**A/N: **Looks like Tim doesn't have a lot of options for this whole truck business. Hoping to get the next chapter up by Sunday - cross your fingers. It's a Dallas chapter, and you know how he can be.


	7. Where There's Smoke

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Where There's Smoke**

XXXX

_**Monday, April 18, 1966 **_

Ruby had been dismayed on Friday to come back from the stable after dinner to find people sitting in the bar. But it was a smaller crowd and Buck told her to go on upstairs, and she spent the night in a bubble bath instead of slinging drinks to drunken cowboys, and that was alright with her.

Ruby had settled into a good routine of exercising the horses in the morning and spending most afternoons in the third floor apartment, since it was the only one with an air-conditioning unit. Buck's argument against putting one downstairs was that hot people were thirsty, and thirsty people bought his beer, and he had a point there.

Buck was still in a world of pain from his teeth – one had been knocked out, the other front tooth broken and not a dentist in the land working the Easter weekend. He'd had to wait over a week to get them fixed, and Ruby's hopes that the trip to the dentist Monday morning would shut him up were in vain. He came home down for the count, lying up in bed and whining about having the broken tooth pulled, like it was the worst thing that'd ever happened to him.

She was happy those two big teeth were gone, not that she'd ever let that guy Ray know it. She was also happy Buck was such a whiner. He didn't host a party on the weekend, and she was glad about it.

She'd hunted up and down the place for the keys to Buck's Thunderbird that morning, but they were nowhere to be found. Usually they were tacked up on a nail in the bar kitchen. It didn't matter much, because when she went out, the car was gone.

Buck was pretty looped on the pain pills the doctor had given him; she assumed he'd left his car and had someone pick him up and bring him back.

She'd had no choice but to walk to the stable. Buck had told her not to walk up there by herself since it went right through the Negro neighbourhood north of them, but she didn't have a choice and no one paid her any mind. She was hot and dusty and had wasted a good forty-five minutes of her morning by the time she got there though.

Wick was nowhere to be found, so she'd supervised the unloading of the hay off the truck, and had tried to put empty pallets onto a flatbed with the forklift, but couldn't get it in gear. She heard the grinding of the transmission and cringed. A gear shift was a mystery to her, and no matter how hard she tried she never got the hang of it. Better to leave it for Wick than to bust Buck's machinery.

Now she saddled Rigel, a chestnut gelding, and took him out for some exercise. He was her horse's full sibling, and she'd kept up the astronomical names their dam and sire had.

She rode around the riding ring, accidentally catching her lip with her tooth. Her lip had swollen a little, but it was nothing she wasn't used to. She'd been tossed off enough horses to be familiar with ice and bruises, and her lip looked close to normal now.

She couldn't help but wonder about Tim Shepard. The scar down his face was frightening, but beneath it was a quiet stillness she couldn't figure out. He seemed to command a lot of respect at Buck's place, and if he could smarten up a guy like Ray Roth, then he was alright to her.

She had asked Buck about him again, but her cousin had grunted that Tim Shepard was trouble and that was that. He couldn't be that much trouble if he and his gang of boys were welcome at Buck's parties.

She rode Rigel for an hour, glad she had kept Bella, who's smooth gait and even, quick speed was just what she needed for trick riding. Bella could stop on a dime and listened to voice commands in a way Rigel never would. He bucked too much and hated riding around the ring all steady-like, and that would never do for trick riding.

She dismounted and unsaddled the horse, then let him loose in the paddock where Bella was. She shut the gate behind her and went to stow the saddle in the stable. She stopped in her tracks when she spotted a man inside the stable.

He was alone, leaning against a post by one of the stalls, his back to her. She took in the broad shoulders and the low cut jeans, admiring his silhouette, cut by the sun. She moved to the side, accidentally kicking a metal bucket, and he turned around to see what the noise was. It was the blond from Buck's, Dallas. She was surprised, wondering what he was doing there, and her surprise evaporated as she looked at him.

"What the hell are you doing?" she exploded, setting the saddle down on a sawhorse and marching toward him. He looked startled at her outburst.

"What the hell?"

"Put that out!" She grabbed the cigarette he held and dashed over to a bucket of water, dousing it.

"What's your problem?" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her back toward him, then pushed her back against the wall, her head hitting the worn boards. "Nobody ever teach you any manners?"

"What's _my_ problem?!" she asked, incredulous. "You just came into a stable, full of bedding and feed with a lit cigarette!"

He looked around for a second, his eyes narrowing as he looked at her. His breathing was returning to normal, and she was conscious of how close he was to her. His hand was still closed roughly around her wrist, and he was standing so close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. She felt her face flush as she thought about how short the distance was that separated them, and he must've noticed too, because he backed away from her.

"I seen you in Buck's," he said, letting her wrist go. She held it to her. "You're his cousin, huh?"

"What? Yeah," she said, distracted for a second. "But that has nothing to do with you smoking in here."

"You owe me a cigarette," he said, looking over at her, his eyes relaxing a little, but not softening his hard face. "Nothing cheap either, Kools or Newport, but if you're smart, it'll be a Kool. That's you gettin' off easy seeing as you're his cousin."

She looked at him for a second. "Me getting off easy? You're something else. You don't bring a lit cigarette into the stable or the barn. Jesus."

He shrugged. "Maybe you gotta point. You don't gotta break my smoke to make it. Coulda just asked me to put it out."

He wandered through the stable, taking stock of the horses, and she huffed out a breath. She was starting to see why his blonde girlfriend liked to throw things at him.

"You were staying upstairs for awhile the weekend before last," she said.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You're Dallas?"

He nodded. "Dallas Winston."

"Ruby Merril. But apparently you knew that," she said. "What are you doing out here? You must've never set foot in a stable in your life to come in here with a cigarette."

"I come here plenty, I'm Buck's rodeo partner."

She looked at him in surprise. "You? You don't look much like you're into rodeos."

"Let's not go getting me angry all over again," he said, a look of contempt on his face. "I know plenty."

"Well, not enough to not smoke in here. You should know better."

"I do," he said.

She put her hands on her hips. "Then why'd you do it?"

He looked over at her, an amused smile on his lips. He lifted a shoulder like he didn't have a care in the world. "I felt like it."

"You could've set fire to this place."

"I ain't never killed a horse yet, so don't go gettin' your panties in twist."

She bristled at his words. She'd been around tough talkers all her life, but she could tell this guy didn't care whether she was used to it or not. He couldn't have been much older than her from the looks of him, and he didn't have any manners.

Dallas began walking toward the last stall.

"Is he yours?" she asked, following him. She was curious about the horses in the stable, since she knew only four were Buck's, including Rigel and Bella.

"Nah, Zephyr and Whiskey Jack belong to the Slash J ranch," Dallas said, gesturing toward a bright bay stallion in the last stall, and a roan stallion next to him. "They got so many horses that Buck boards the ones I race over here to make himself some extra dough."

"You race?" she asked, not believing her ears.

"What else?" he asked, tucking an unlit cigarette behind his ear, as if he had to have one with him at every moment. "I guess you ride?"

She nodded. "Bella's mine … the palomino mare in the paddock."

He turned and walked toward the tack room without even acknowledging she'd spoken.

She studied him as he walked away. He had blue jeans on, cowboy boots and a dark t-shirt, which made him look half the part. But the leather jacket hanging on the post, the white blond hair and scowl were decidedly not cowboy. He was the strangest horse jockey she ever met.

"So when are these races?" she asked, taking swift steps to catch up to his long strides as he went into the tack room. He came out with a saddle and went back toward the last stall again, occupied by the bright bay stallion. She turned to follow him.

"They ain't nothin' like you've ever seen, honey," he said, contempt in his voice.

"I've seen plenty of rodeos and quarter mile racing."

"Yeah, well this ain't regular racing," he said, saddling the horse. She watched as Zephyr puffed out his chest, and Dallas brought his knee up to the horse's ribs, causing the horse to exhale long enough for Dallas to cinch the girth tight. He knew what he was doing. "This ain't no jockeys in pro clothes and helmets. This is real guys, racing for money, no protection, just jeans and a t-shirt. Usually takes place at the bull ring a few miles outta town. You plan on buzzing off and lettin' me work at any point in the day?"

"Depends, you planning on burning the place down if I go?" she asked, stepping inside the stall and handing him a bridle.

"You're a mouthy little broad, you sure you're related to Buck?" he asked, his small smile highlighting a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"Well, you can't push me around like you do him," she said.

He walked over to her, his pace slow, and she backed up against the stall fence rail as he approached.

"Oh yeah?" he asked, leaning in to her, his breath hot on her neck. He smelled like cologne. "I bet I can."

She moved away from him and out of the stall, listening to his throaty laughter and she cursed herself for not standing her ground.

"You know I'm going to have to check out your little rodeo race," she said with as much levity as she could, afraid she was blushing.

"It ain't little," he said. "You come on down any time, honey. I do a little bull riding, too."

She turned around and caught his gaze. "I can believe it. You look like you're comfortable with a lot of bull."

She turned around and started to walk away, smiling to herself. As she walked out of the stable she wanted more than anything to look back and see his expression, but she was sure he was watching her and waiting for her to do it.

Her good mood vaporized when she got outside and saw that he'd shown up in Buck's Thunderbird.

XXXX

"He has got to be one of the most aggravating people I've ever met," Ruby fumed as she made a late lunch for her and Buck. She planned to go back to the stable later in the day, and if she had any luck he'd be gone. "Did you know he just up and took your car?"

"Dally's okay." Buck looked sheepish. "You're lucky he didn't pound you into the ground for snatching his cigarette like you did. He's belted people over less."

"Girls?"

"Well, I ain't never seen him hit a girl," Buck admitted. "But I wouldn't put it past him."

"A lit cigarette in the stable!" she said again. "Can you imagine if he'd had it in the barn with all the hay? His engine's runnin' but there sure ain't nobody drivin'."

"You get all West Texas when you're mad," Buck said with a tiny grin. "Siddown and eat for a minute."

Ruby sat down at the table and looked out the window, not touching her soup.

"That girl that was with him, she's his girlfriend?"

"Who, Sylvia?" Buck asked. He nodded. "Been going together awhile. Nobody can figure that one out."

"They don't really go together, do they?" she asked. "He's one of the strangest looking people I ever met. He has a funny accent too. For a cowboy."

"He spent some time in New York, picked up that Yankee accent," Buck said. "And he's a good racer. Good with the horses. Makes me some money at least, and that's more than I can say for the guys that jockeyed for the Slash J before him."

"Well, he better not pull anything like that again. I'll douse _him_ next time, not just the cigarette."

Buck chuckled. "You wanna work this weekend? I figure I'd throw a party Saturday night. You can waitress again if you want to. Might be a big enough crowd to make tips."

Ruby resisted the urge to groan. That's all she needed was another one of Buck's parties. But he'd pay her at least, she could make sure of that.

"Jed'll be here, you don't gotta do much if you don't want," Buck said, looking uncomfortable that she was taking so long to reply.

"It's not that," Ruby said. "You gotta remember, I went from a dry city to here, it's a big change."

"There ain't no booze in Abilene?"

"I didn't say that," she smiled. "But there ain't a single bar in the entire city, hasn't been since forever. You gotta go to Buffalo Gap or Impact for that, only places in the entire county. Then I get up here and it's like … well, you know what it's like."

Buck chuckled a little. "Guess it's a bit of a change for you, huh?"

"It all is," she said. She was quiet for a moment. "I'll work your party. As long as that Ray guy doesn't show up."

"If he does he'll be on his best behaviour," Buck said, eating his soup. "Shepard'll make sure of that."

* * *

**Author's Note: **Reviews would be appreciated – I always get nervous writing Dally for some reason, so I'd appreciate the feedback.


	8. Chance Meetings

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for all of the reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Chance Meetings**

XXXX

_**Friday, April 22, 1966 **_

Two weeks after his meeting with the Texans, Tim showed up at Buck's just before noon, hoping to get a beer and talk with Bill somewhere private. Even when he wasn't having a party, Buck sometimes let people use his place to meet – if the money was right.

He was tired of not having a car. If he could get this truck and do this first run for the Texans, he was going to get a car first thing with the proceeds. It looked bad being ferried around by Bill or walking everywhere, and he wasn't about to take the bus.

He noticed Buck's car was missing from the side of the building, but he opened the screen and banged on the door anyway. He peered inside the window, and the place looked quiet. A few minutes later he saw Buck making his way into the bar from the stairs.

Buck answered the door and mumbled "What do you want?" like he was afraid to show the huge gap in his grin since Ray'd knocked his teeth out.

"I need to meet with Bill," he said. "Thought this place would be most private."

"Ain't you got some kinda hideout for that?"

"It's not a hideout," Tim said, his patience wearing thin. "And a couple of the boys are suspended and hanging around the warehouse, and I don't need them part of this meeting. But if you don't want the money, that's fine."

Tim turned around and was down two concrete steps when Buck called him back.

"I never said no," Buck said. He held his hand out and Tim gave him a couple dollars. Buck held the door open. "I'm having a party tomorrow night, 'round seven or so. If Roth shows up, he better be on his best behaviour. He shouldn't be grabbing on girls like he does, he ain't got no manners. And it's gonna take the dentist three weeks or more to make me some new teeth, and that's if I can afford 'em."

Tim looked over at Buck. "Ray did you a favour then."

Buck held his gaze, and Tim noticed Buck's large pupils and realized the man was half-crocked. "I don't want him causing any trouble."

"I told you before Roth won't bother no one," Tim said.

Buck nodded, then left without another word, shuffling upstairs and leaving him with an empty room. It was eerie being in Buck's without the loud jukebox music, the crowds, the clinking of classes and the smell of smoke thick in the air. There was something unnatural about it.

Tim cracked his neck. Two weeks, and not a clue about where to get a truck. Dallas had been no help at all, more interested in holing up with Sylvia and making nice than looking for a lead on a truck.

It was looking more and more like they would have to steal one, and that was going to be a tall order. His only relief was the phone call from the Texans had brought good news instead of bad.

Tim heard the familiar sound of Bill's car as he pulled onto the gravel. He was five minutes late, came in muttering an apology and sat down with Tim at a table in the centre of the room.

"You ain't heard from the Texans I hope?" Bill asked, lighting a Chesterfield.

"I got a call from Dirty Dave last night," Tim said, watching Bill's worried expression. "He said they're running late getting things set up. It buys us some time."

"Thank God for small favours," Bill said. He ashed his cigarette in one of the cut glass ashtrays, rolling the tip around the edge. "We're still at square one, though."

"I know it," Tim said.

He was glad he hadn't said a word to the boys about any of this. It was why he didn't want to meet at the warehouse. Carl and Pete were suspended for two days, and they were laying over at the warehouse. The minute those two yahoos knew Tim was having trouble getting a truck, then the rest of the gang would know. He'd already decided that the first run would be one hundred percent profit for him and Bill. Once they got going Tim would be able to get the boys lifting hubs and stealing car parts again. He could load some of them into the truck and see if he could unload them in other cities and states. His fence in Tulsa was getting lazy when it came to getting rid of what Tim brought him, and the fuzz was shining a lot more lights on him for it. If Tim could get the parts out of town, the gang could make some good money on them.

Tim was about to tell Bill they were going to have to resort to stealing a truck when he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs. The dark-haired girl hurried inside, the door slamming shut behind her. She was wearing blue jeans and a western shirt, and she picked a cowboy hat off her head and plunked it on a hook just inside the door. He could smell the scent of hay, earth and something sweet, maybe perfume of some kind.

She turned around, surprised to see them sitting there, then, undeterred, she made her way behind the bar to a small refrigerator under the counter and pulled out a Dr Pepper, puncturing the can with a church key.

"You boys want anything?" she asked.

Tim looked over at her and shrugged. She pulled something out of the fridge, opened two cans and came over to the table with two beer, both of them from Buck's private full strength collection, a Lone Star and a Pearl. She put the Lone Star in front of him and the Pearl in front of Bill. It didn't escape his attention they were both Texas brews.

"Buck tellin' you to give out the good stuff now?" Bill asked her. "I'm Bill, by the way. Bill Pearce."

Tim resisted rolling his eyes at the syrupy tone Bill's voice had taken on. He felt no need to introduce himself; it wasn't often he had to. But he wondered all the same if she knew who he was.

The girl shook hands with Bill.

"Ruby Merril. And no, the beers are on me," she said. Tim looked up at her, and she met his gaze head on, looked him right in the eye, and it pleased him. People tended to avoid eye contact with him, especially if they didn't know him. The guys would avoid it for fear of pissing him off, while the girls probably just couldn't stand to, what with the scar.

His scar had scared her that night a few weeks ago, but now she looked at him without a hint of that fear.

"For the other weekend," she said. "I never said thank you."

Tim nodded at her, and she smiled at him. He watched as she walked back toward the bar, her jeans hugging her curves, and he licked his lips. She wasn't bad looking at all.

She sat on a bar stool, spread some papers out in front of her and was working on whatever it was with no concern to them. Anyone else would've beat it out of the room by now.

She glanced back at the table and saw he was still watching her, and he resisted the urge to look away, embarrassed to have been caught at it.

"Do you need me to leave?" she asked, now aware she'd walked in on something.

He was quiet for a second. "Not if you know how to keep your mouth shut."

She didn't look offended at his comment and smiled.

"I've only got tongue enough for one row of teeth," she said.

Bill raised his eyebrows. "You talkin' English?"

"Texas," Tim said. Her accent had a bit of a twang to it, and was pure West Texas.

She nodded, a smile playing on her lips. "Is it that obvious?"

He shrugged a little. She sure didn't look anything like Buck, what with all the dark hair and the pale skin. He never would've guessed they were related if he hadn't overheard it at Buck's last party.

"What part of Texas are you from?" Bill asked.

"Moved here from Abilene. But I was born in Lubbock and lived in Midland when I was little."

She looked at Tim again, and he held her gaze for a moment. He felt triumphant as she began to blush and looked away. She went behind the bar, picked up a cloth and wiped the shiny surface of the bar down, then sat back on the stool and stared at the pages she'd laid out. He didn't think she was reading them.

Bill looked at Tim and jerked his head toward her, a questioning look on his face. Tim shrugged.

"Is a forty-eight foot trailer the biggest?" Bill asked in a low voice. "I don't even know."

"Don't think so," Tim answered. "But he said that was the minimum, so I'm aiming for it or better. I hate to say it, but I think we may have to swipe the truck."

"We may have to swipe a trailer too," Bill said. "Lord, how are we gonna do that? You know none of the boys have a licence to drive a rig."

"Figurin' on doin' that myself," Tim said. "Can't be much harder than a stick shift."

"You're wrong about that," Ruby said.

He looked over at her in surprise, and she spun around on the stool to face them. "I don't mean to butt in, but I was eavesdropping."

Tim's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile. At least she was honest.

"You're talking about rigs, right?" she said, wandering over. "You've got how many speeds in a manual transmission? Five. Most trucks out there are five and four transmissions with two sticks. That means two-handed double shifting, and that takes awhile to learn. Tractors have unsynchronized transmissions, and if you can't float the gears you have to double clutch, and that takes time to learn, too."

Tim leaned back in his chair, a smile on his lips. Damned if he wasn't getting hard listening to her talk about transmissions.

"Now how does a pretty thing like you know all that?" he asked, regretting the words the instant they left his lips. He used to be able to flirt without sounding like a total dipshit. Hell, it wasn't like he'd had practice in jail, and banging Carolyn since he got back took nothing more than a hello and how you been.

"My daddy's a truck driver," she said, her cheeks pink.

"You ever drive one?" Bill asked.

She shook her head. "He let me on flat stretches, but not to shift. If you've never driven a rig before you ain't gonna learn in a couple days, especially with a trailer, loaded or not. Then you gotta learn to drive it with one and that's a whole 'nother thing."

"Well, that'd be all well and good if we had a truck," Bill said. Tim wanted to kick him under the table.

He looked up at the girl. They might be able to use her.

"You mind takin' a walk?" Tim asked Bill. Bill looked at him in confusion, then gave him a knowing grin and winked as he left the table and headed outside.

"Have a seat," Tim said, kicking the chair on his right out toward her.

"This has something to do with your business a couple weeks back?" she asked, sitting down next to him.

"I need a rig," he said, not bothering to answer her. "Forty-eight foot trailer."

"I can talk to my daddy when he calls tonight, he might know of one around here, or someone that might know. If you're coming to Buck's party tomorrow I can let you know what I hear." She hesitated for a second. "I take it you don't have a commercial licence?"

His smile was wry. "Is it that obvious?"

"Just in that you have no idea what you're talkin' about," she said with a smile.

He grinned back. "You dig okay."

"You plan on paying for this rig?"

"Not if I can avoid it," he said, taking a long drink of the beer.

"So that's a no," she said. He grinned a little - she was pretty sharp for a Merril. They sat in comfortable silence for a second, and she sipped her Dr Pepper as he drank his beer.

"If you do find a truck, I can explain double clutching and how to shift a five and four. I can write it all down if you want," she said, fiddling with the pen in her hand. "Or I could show you."

"You'd be willin' to help us out?" he asked.

"As long as you don't say anything to Buck," she said, looking over her shoulder like he night be standing right behind her. "He'd likely hit the roof."

Tim resisted the urge to laugh. "You ain't got nothin' to worry about from your cousin, since I never seen anyone bootleg or fix races more than he does. He sure as hell ain't one to judge."

"Fixed races, huh?" she asked. "Well, don't that beat all. You learn something new every day around this place. I guess I could help you out. Whatever you need to know."

"Everything," Tim said. "Only don't tell no one that."

She looked at him in a way he couldn't read and tilted her head a little. "Tim Shepard knows everything, huh? And no one can know he doesn't?"

He inhaled and did his best not to smile.

So she did know who he was.

"Something like that," he replied.

* * *

**Author's Note:** I know these chapters are all on the shorter side, but they do get longer lol. Next chapter - Buck's party. Who should we see? Some Two-Bit? Dally? More Tim?


	9. Close Encounters

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thank you, thank you for all the great reviews. It really helps me get the next chapter on the right track to hear what you all have to say!

* * *

**Chapter 9 – Close Encounters**

XXXX

_**Saturday, April 23, 1966 **_

Ruby met Buck's bartender Jed about an hour before the party started on Saturday night. The lanky cowboy nodded at her and hung up his cowboy hat inside the door. He looked to be in his late twenties and like he was used to hard living. Buck had told her he thought Jed was an ex-con, but he'd never asked him.

As soon as he opened his mouth Ruby knew she was in the company of a fellow Texan.

"Spent the last ten years in Huntsville," he said.

Ruby wondered after that if he meant he lived in the town of Huntsville or the prison unit there.

Jed had her cut up some lemons and limes for drinks, then she started serving drinks to some of the tables once the crowds started to pour in. She never knew how everyone seemed to know when to show up – it wasn't like Buck advertised these parties, yet they were packed full when he had them. The past two weekends when he hadn't had parties, not a soul had shown up.

The other thing that hadn't shown up was the police. Buck did tell her he had someone paid off, but she knew police, and one paid off cop couldn't do much. But so far she hadn't seen hide nor hair of Tulsa's finest, and that was alright with her. She could just imagine the phone call to her father if she was caught serving alcohol to underage kids in a place like this.

She sighed as weaved through the crowds back to the bar. This wasn't what she had in mind when she moved from Abilene. She thought she'd spend her days riding, training for a rodeo and practicing all those moves she'd seen the Lucas sisters do.

She hadn't told a soul yet, but she was going to put together her own trick riding show. She'd audition for someone like Montie Montana and go on the road with a rodeo, and all she'd have to worry about in life was riding her horse.

She slid away from a boy who drunkenly tried to grab her leg and vowed to stomp on his foot next time she walked by. She sighed when she reached the bar.

"It's been forty minutes," Jed said, a wry smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes. "You wanna pack it in?"

She gave him the eye. "I worked a couple weeks ago for the whole night. Doesn't mean I have to like it. I liked standing behind that bar better, there's no wandering hands back there."

When she got a break from all the orders she slipped into the kitchen to bring more beer from the pantry out to the small icebox under the bar.

She was keeping an eye out for Tim, but was rewarded with Dallas in a bad mood. He walked into the place, his face like a thundercloud, and his knuckles busted open on both hands. He walked right past her into the kitchen and over to the pantry.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

He wrenched the pantry door open, and she cursed herself for forgetting to lock it. By the time she rushed over, he was already headed toward the back door, a couple bottles of beer in his hands.

"You have to pay for that!" she yelled after him.

He didn't turn around, didn't say a word, and stalked off into the night like a highway robber. She sighed, locked up the pantry and headed back into the bar room. The bottles cost more than the cans – he probably knew that. At least Dallas had sense enough to leave the Thunderbird behind this time.

"I swear to God I'll use that gun on him," she said, her hands on her hips, fuming as she counted her loss.

"Ain't the first time I've heard someone say that about Dally," a cheerful voice said. She turned around and saw a tall boy with reddish hair leaning against the bar, a grin on his face, despite the bruises he sported. "You got any Bud that ain't three point two back there?"

"Depends, you gonna pay for it?" she asked, jerking her head toward the door. Buck had already docked her pay for giving free beers to Tim and his friend Bill yesterday. She was out a few more cents now thanks to Dallas.

He grinned at her. "I usually pride myself on not payin' for things, but seeing as you're down a couple beer thanks to Mr. Cheerful out there, I'll do my best not to tick you off and pay full price even."

She couldn't resist smiling back. "I haven't seen you around here before. I'm Ruby."

"Two-Bit Mathews," he said, shaking her hand.

"Two-Bit?"

"It's a nickname, my mother ain't that crazy," he said with an easy grin. "And I'm around here plenty, we just ain't been introduced proper until now. Word has it you're Buck's cousin. He was tellin' us during the poker game last week. We didn't know he had any cousins."

"Word's right," she said, wiping the counter down before handing him a bottle of Bud. She could see a line of stitches whenever he turned his head around, and his lip and eye were both healing from bruises and swelling. "You know Dallas?"

"Yep, and don't worry, it ain't you, he's like that to everyone just about," he said. He took a long drink. "He's been getting in a lot of fights lately."

"With you?"

He looked surprised, then smiled. "Nah, these were courtesy of someone else. Dallas actually came to my defence when those Socs jumped me."

"Socs?"

"Rich kids from the South side, the social set." He took another drink of his beer. "See, we're on the north side of town, and the money's down south."

"Abilene was divided up like that, too," Ruby said. "Train tracks ran straight through town and you got a north side and a south side."

"Which side did you live on?"

She grinned at him. "Same side I'm on now."

"The good side, then," he said with a wink. "Things as bad with the ol' north and south in Abilene?"

Ruby shrugged. "I dunno. We're an oil boom town, too, but we had an Air Force base that drew a lot of folks from all over. Not quite like here. Our big rivalry was football, which is the only thing anyone in Abilene ever seemed to care about. Our sworn enemy is the other high school on the south side of town. I think I got out just in time, they're starting to best us in football."

"The other?" Two-Bit asked, an eyebrow raised up. "There's only two high schools?"

"Yeah, and Cooper only opened six years ago," she said.

"Shoot, kid, you've ended up in the big city," he smiled. "We got more high schools than you can shake a stick at, and more South Side Socs too."

"Are they all wolverine mean like that?" she said, nodding toward his face. "What'd they beat you up for?"

He glanced down at the bar, then up at her, mischief in his gaze. "Oh, I might've accidentally tripped one of 'em, and he might have landed in a bowl of chili. In front of the whole jet set, girls and all. Maybe."

"Maybe, huh?" she asked, finding it impossible not to smile. "So you courted it, is what you're telling me?"

"Oh, I courted some trouble, but they tipped the scales away from fair," Two-Bit said. "Four – or maybe it was five – on one ain't fair."

"And Dallas stepped in?"

Two-Bit nodded. "He ain't a bad guy once you get to know him. And when he doesn't steal beer."

"So why's he getting in so many fights if he's some kind of knight in shining armour?" she asked.

Two-Bit grinned. "You've met Dally, right?"

She couldn't help but laugh. "He could do with a personality transplant and maybe he wouldn't be fightin' so much."

"I wouldn't go tellin' him that if I were you," Two-Bit said with a smile. "Dally knows it already. Yep, he ain't exactly Mr. Easygoing. He's more comfortable with three hots and a cot than anything."

She laughed. This guy was okay.

"Slandering my poor boyfriend's name again, Two-Bit?"

Ruby saw the beautiful blonde, the one Dallas was dating, at Two-Bit's elbow.

She was even more beautiful close up. She looked like an actress, with perfectly curled blonde hair to her chin like an old movie star, a clear complexion and bright blue eyes. Ruby looked at her own dusty jeans and calloused hands, then at the girl's figure-hugging outfit and perfect nails and felt like something the cat dragged in.

"Dally don't need my help to slander his name, Sylvia," Two-Bit said. "Y'all met? This is Buck's cousin Ruby, and Dally's girl Sylvia."

"Hi," Ruby said. "I've seen you around."

Sylvia had a polite smile, but there was a shred of distrust in her eyes as she looked at Ruby.

"I heard Ray Roth knocked out your cousin's teeth," Two-Bit said after looking between the two of them. "I don't much like Roth, but you remind me to buy the guy a beer next time I see him in here. Glory, did I ever want to knock those things out myself just so I wouldn't have to look at 'em no more. I confused him for Mr. Ed more than once."

Ruby tried not to smile at that, but she identified with the thought way too much. Buck still looked pretty goofy missing those big buck teeth, but even with the giant gap it was an improvement in his looks.

"You got a sense of humour," he said, grinning at her attempts not to laugh. "It'll do you good around this bunch of troublemakers."

"Yourself included?"

"Now, now I'm no trouble," he said with a wink. "I'm merely the entertainment."

He took an unopened can of beer she'd placed on the counter and shook it up with an evil grin.

"He's a troublemaker, the biggest one there is," Sylvia chimed in. Even she couldn't keep a smile off her face.

Two-Bit started to argue the point, but Ruby glanced over at the door and noticed Tim Shepard come in, alone this time. He shook hands with people as he made his way through the crowd to the bar. He glanced over and saw her and headed straight toward her. Whatever Two-Bit said went in one ear and out the other.

She crouched down and got a beer out of the small fridge.

"Saved one for you," she said to Tim, punching two holes in the top of the can with the church key and setting the beer down in front of him. He nodded his thanks to her and slid some change across the table.

"Mathews," he said, sitting with his right side facing her and greeting her entertainment. "Sylvia."

"Hey Tim," Two-Bit said. He turned his attention back to her with a wink. "Don't let this greasy hood give you any trouble now. I'll catch y'all later."

Ruby noticed the beer he shook up was gone, and looked around to see Irene handing it to a tall greaser, whose hair had made a run from the top of his head to the top of his lip. Ruby winced a little as he cracked it open and it sprayed everywhere, to the amusement and irritation of the crowd.

Two-Bit was laughing so hard he could barely stand up.

"Real funny, Two-Bit," the guy said, wiping his face off with a small, dirty towel Irene handed him.

"Dale, you got no idea," Two-Bit said, laughing again.

He turned back and winked toward them, then grabbed a cowboy hat off another guy's head and put it on his own, running outside and hollering a yee-haw like he was on fire.

"He always like that?" she asked Tim.

"Only when he drinks," Tim said. "So from dawn 'til dusk."

Ruby asked Sylvia if she wanted anything.

"I'm just looking for Dallas," she said. "Anyone seen him around? He was supposed to meet me here."

"He took off with some of my beer awhile ago," Ruby said. "Stalked out the back door like the devil was after him."

Sylvia raked her gaze at Tim, pursing her lips.

"Don't look at me," Tim said, raising his hands up in protest.

"I'll have a beer," she sighed. Ruby got a can out of the ice box. She punctured two holes in the top and poured the can into a glass. None of the girls liked to drink them out of the can.

"You hear from your old man?" Tim asked Ruby. She nodded, and he glanced over at her. "Good deal. I'll be back."

He weaved into the crowd, and Ruby watched him go. He approached some of the boys she was beginning to recognize as his gang. She studied the way he moved, noticing how everyone got out of the way for him. Some of the girls gave him looks, a few giggling behind their hands, and a blonde Ruby hadn't seen before sidled up to him and kissed his cheek before he shooed her away. She gave him a sour look and disappeared into the crowd.

"Can I give you some advice?"

Ruby looked over at Sylvia.

"Might be a good idea to try and hide that admiring smile," Sylvia said, nodding toward Tim. Ruby couldn't tell whether the girl was sympathizing or mocking her, but either way, she was found out. "If I can see it, so can he. Men like a little mystery."

Sylvia took the glass of beer and wandered into the crowd. Ruby let out a nervous breath. Jesus, the whole world was gonna know.

Tim wandered back to the bar a few minutes later, and Ruby tried not to look him in the eye. He said nothing, just drank his beer and watched the people around him. After a few more minutes, she couldn't stand it.

"Can we talk?" she asked, her voice as low as it could be over the din.

He nodded, and she came out from behind the bar and headed to the stairs, checking over her should to see if Tim was following. A few doors were shut on the second floor – Buck had given out a few keys and was hinting he'd have her take over that duty too – and she scooted past them quickly, not wanting to hear what was going on behind them.

She went up the stairs to the third floor, Tim on her heels, and wondered if he'd ever been up here before. She opened the door to the apartment, glad that Buck was downstairs making the rounds. She had a feeling he wouldn't be too happy about Tim Shepard being in his apartment, but she couldn't say why.

"I figured you'd want to talk in private," she said, holding the door to the apartment open for him. "Someone's using the back room for a poker game."

He strode over to the couch like he lived there and sat down on the near side, looking up at her, his dark blue eyes unreadable. She shut the door behind her and watched him pull out a pack of Kools.

"You mind if I have one?" she asked, nodding toward the cigarettes.

He looked down at the pack, shrugged and tossed it to her. She took one out and laid it on the table, then handed the pack to him.

"I talked to my daddy last night," she said, inching over to the couch and sitting down on Tim's right. "He has a friend, he's in the state pen for the next eight months, and this man usually drives a truck. He has insurance on his tractor until the end of the year, paid up. It's sittin' at his place, not rolling, and his wife might be willing to let it be borrowed."

"How're we gonna move it?"

She took in a sharp breath at the mention of "we". Something had thrilled inside her, and she hoped he meant he was going to have her come along and help him. Her daddy would skin her alive, but her daddy wasn't here.

"I don't think his wife can drive it. We'll have to see how you do with it," she said. "Do you think you can handle it?"

He sat back, his arm stretched across the back of the couch. The smile on his face was hard, but unreadable.

"I can handle anything."

He held her gaze, and a shiver worked its way up her spine. The flush of heat rushed to her head as he looked at her. It was as if she was sitting there naked in front of him. She had the unnerving feeling he knew exactly what she was thinking, and was telling her so.

She took in a shaky breath as she looked down at the couch and studied the pattern on the upholstery. She wondered if the urge to kiss him would pass.

"Oh, I almost forgot," she said, picking out a folded sheet of paper from the front of the apron she wore and opening it. "Here. I wrote out all kinds of stuff you'll need to know … how to start up, double clutching, when to shift, how to attach a trailer … if you get one. All kinds of things about trucks. I dunno if it'll help. Sometimes it's easier to learn by doing."

She held out the piece of paper, willing her hand to stay steady. He took it, gave it a cursory glance and folded it backup, tucking it into a pocket. He studied her for a moment.

"I'll pick you up here tomorrow morning, we'll go take a look at this truck," he said, downing the last of the beer.

"Oh … well, I'll be at the stable in the morning, just up the road off Mohawk. Could you pick me up there?" she asked.

He nodded, leaving the empty beer can on the coffee table, then stood up, and she followed suit, walking with him toward the door. He opened the door, then turned to face her and leaned against the door frame.

"You did good, kid," he said.

"I'm eighteen, I'm not a kid," she answered with a small smile.

His gaze travel slowly up her body, and her face grew hot as his gaze hesitated at her chest before he looked her straight in the eye. "I'm aware of that."

She swallowed, looking up into his face, his dark eyes unreadable again. He nodded at her, then turned and went down the hall toward the stairs. Ruby shut the door and leaned back against it, her heart hammering in her chest.

* * *

**Author's Note** – So Tim's involving her in some business … does this bode well for Ruby?

If you're interested in what Two-Bit did that got him in so much trouble with the Socs, check out my other fic "Middle Ground" which coincides with this fic, but follows Two-Bit and what he's up to at school. It features the gang a bit more as well.


	10. More Than A One Trick Pony

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the great reviews! zevie, I miss you, come back to me!

* * *

**Chapter 10 – More Than A One Trick Pony**

XXXX

_**Sunday, April 24, 1966 **_

Ruby forced an eye open and shut it quickly against the bright light streaming through a gap in the curtains. She turned over in bed and saw the clock arm was inching toward seven thirty. The noise from the party had carried on until four in the morning, and it felt like she'd just drifted off to sleep a few minutes ago.

She gave a bone deep sigh and tossed the covers off, her feet relishing the cool of the worn floorboards as she walked to her dresser. She got her riding clothes out and then packed an extra set of clothes in a rucksack to take to the stable.

The door to Buck's bedroom was shut tight, and she figured he wouldn't raise his head off the pillow until way past noon. She had a quick shower, made breakfast, left some oatmeal in the fridge for her cousin, then left the little apartment.

She hated walking down to the second floor. The doors were shut, and she knew there were couples behind them. She hated the fact Buck had all these people shacked up here like some kind of whorehouse, but he told her it was like a hotel and that was altogether different. She wasn't so sure.

After the first party, she'd burned with embarrassment watching people leave the second floor the next morning. Buck hadn't even bothered to change the sheets, and she couldn't go near the rooms without feeling dirty. Now it was weeks later, people were leaving the place again, and it was worse thinking that Buck wouldn't clean the sheets at all.

She put cleaning the sheets and rooms on her mental to-do list. Maybe if she thought of it like a hotel like Buck said it'd help. Good Lord, this place was gonna send her to an early grave.

She groaned as came down the last flight of stairs and got a good look at the bar. There was sawdust and peanut shells on the floor, spilled drinks on tables and the floor making a nice sticky mess. There were empty beer bottles and cans, dirty glasses and more furniture in disarray than she'd ever seen in one place. It was going to take the rest of her life to clean it up.

She looked into the bar kitchen – Irene hadn't bothered to wash a damn thing. This wasn't what she thought her life was going to be when she moved here. Her throat tightened and her eyes threatened tears for a minute. It wasn't fair she had to lose everything she loved and end up here. She took a deep breath and let it out quickly, the strained feeling in her head loosening.

This would all have to wait until the afternoon. She needed to get up the stables, get her practice in with Bella and then get ready for Tim Shepard. She was nervous. If this truck didn't pan out, she'd probably never see him again.

She wasn't sure why she wanted to see him. He was polite to her, but there was an undercurrent of something dangerous that both intrigued and scared her. In some ways, Dallas's anger was easier to manage. He was just mad and said it, and she could deal with that. Tim was inscrutable, and instead of scaring her, it made her want to know more about him.

She hadn't said a word to Buck about _that_.

Ruby pulled out the set of keys she'd had copied for Buck's car, so she'd have her own set. She walked outside and around the side of the building, but the Thunderbird was nowhere to be found. She stood in the gravel lot fuming. That boy just helped himself to whatever he wanted, and it seemed nobody ever stopped him. She hoped Dallas hadn't opened the trunk where she'd put everything.

A forty-five minute walk later, she was dusty, thirsty and glad she had packed extra clothes. Her western blouse stuck to her skin, and she knew she looked like a fright when she walked into the stable.

Dr. Jenkins, a stout man with a round face, was taking a cursory look at Bella's hooves. Ruby watched Dallas Winston unsaddling a horse after a ride, the Thunderbird nowhere to be found. She settled up the bill with Dr. Jenkins, and then turned to Dallas once the man had left.

"I thought you took the car. And you owe me for the beer, it ain't free when I'm working," she said. She turned away from him and put a blanket on Bella's back.

"Buck said it was okay," he said, as if he thought Ruby didn't keep track of who drank for free.

She walked over to the locked office to get her custom saddle and found the door wide open. She and Buck were the only ones with keys.

She looked over at Dallas and pointed to the office door.

"It's not a complicated lock," he said, with more than a hint of a smile.

"You are unbelievable," she muttered. She went into the office, but nothing seemed to be missing.

"I hear that a lot, only the girls are usually in bed with me when they say it."

His voice was much closer, and she turned around to find him standing in the office doorway with a smug grin. She ignored his comment, and she could tell he was disappointed. He was probably used to shocking girls with all his language.

"What the hell is that thing anyway? Doesn't look like no saddle I've ever seen," he said.

She took the white saddle from on top of a filing cabinet. The saddle was old, the leather cracking and dry in places, and the colour more dingy grey than white in places, but it was the only trick saddle she had. They were expensive, and there was no way she could ever save enough now to get a new one.

"It's a custom saddle," she said, trying to get past him in the doorway. He blocked her movement for a second, eying her with a wolfish grin, then moved out of her way, making sure there was only enough space for her to squeeze by, her body sliding past his and the door frame. He made a lewd groan as she did, and she stalked toward Bella's stall without looking at him. She heaved the saddle onto a stall rail.

"Custom for what?" he said, walking up behind her.

"Trick riding," she said.

"No joke?" he asked. "I saw some of that once. You really do that?"

"Stick around long enough, and you'll see," she said, going into Bella's stall and saddling her. "Oh … here. I owed you, remember?"

She took the Kool out of her shirt pocket and held it out to him. He looked at it and then her, as if she'd lost her mind. Then he shook his head and smiled.

"Not bad, kid," he said.

The word brought back thoughts of Tim, how close he'd been standing to her the night before, how easy it would've been for him to kiss her if he'd wanted to, which he hadn't, or else he would've done it. She could tell Tim Shepard did exactly what he felt like doing.

She looked back toward Bella, afraid Dallas would see she was blushing, and adjusted the girth and tightened the cinches. She placed the breastplate on so the saddle wouldn't slide and slipped Bella out of the halter and into the western bridle. She made sure her drag straps were fastened onto the saddle D-ring and the cinch ring, adjusted the hippodrome strap and attached two tail drag straps to the crupper hand holds on the back of the saddle. Dallas was watching her every move.

She led her horse out of the stall and let her loose in the paddock for a few minutes while she mucked out the stall. She was aware of Dallas watching her from outside the stable doors where he was having a smoke, Zephyr running in the paddock nearby, his black mane streaming behind him, exciting the other horses.

She marched out of the stable and past Dallas, trying not to look over at him as she brought Bella out into a large riding ring. She knew he was done his riding for the moment and was only sticking around to see what she could do. He probably thought he was in for a good laugh.

"Let's show him what we're made of," she whispered to her horse.

Bella looked at her sympathetically.

XXXX

Tim pulled the car off the road into the dirt lot between the stable and a bunch of paddocks, a big riding ring and a pasture gate. He had spotted Ruby's dark hair, streaming out behind her like a flag as he'd pulled near and parked Buck's car, having helped himself to the keys the night before.

He spotted Dally standing against a fence rail, watching Ruby with an intense look on his face. Tim cracked his knuckles.

He got out of the car and made his way toward the fence rail Dallas was leaning on, looking over at Ruby as she cantered the horse around the ring. Suddenly, it looked as if she was falling, but she had flipped onto her back, hanging sideways and upside down off the horse, only one foot in a strap on the saddle keeping her from hitting the ground.

"Holy shit," he said.

"She's been doing that all morning," Dally said, watching her. "Broad's fucking nuts."

He could tell Ruby had spotted him, her posture suddenly straighter in the saddle, and he watched her do a few more tricks, including some kind of flips on and off the horse while it was moving.

She got back in the saddle and rode around the ring, then hung off the horse perpendicular to the ground by just her feet. A second later the upper strap on her leg broke, and she tumbled onto the ground, her horse pulling her along, her other leg still caught in the stirrup.

"Shit!"

He and Dallas both vaulted over the fence rails and ran toward her. Her horse had stopped, and she was getting up.

"I'm alright," she said. "Damn saddle."

She was dusting herself off, but Tim saw she moved gingerly.

"I take it you aren't supposed to do that?" he asked.

She whistled for her horse, and the palomino walked over. Ruby picked up a strap on the right side of the saddle and held it up.

"The keeper broke on the drag strap," she sighed. "I had it taped together, but I guess the tape gave. What I need is to get it fixed, I can't be eatin' dirt like that in a show."

Tim realized the broken piece of leather was a slide to tighten the strap on her foot. When it had come loose, the loop on the strap grew too big and her foot slipped out.

"You could kill yourself doing this," Tim murmured.

"Haven't yet," she said with a smile. "Go on. I'm alright. I won't be able to practice much more, but there's a couple more things I can do. I won't be too long."

Tim looked at Dally, who shrugged, and they both walked over the rails and climbed back. Ruby remounted the horse, cantered around the ring a few times, then stood up on the front part of the saddle, her arms above her head.

"I'm 'sposed to be holding a flag out behind me, so just imagine it," she called out as she rode by.

Tim looked down at the ground, hiding his smile. She had to be the weirdest girl he ever met, and the strangest one in Tulsa by a mile.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Dally asked. Took him long enough to notice.

"Pickin' her up," Tim said, taking out a pack of Kools.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Dally said, eying the pack. "She drowned one of mine after I lit up in the stable."

"I ain't in the stable," Tim replied, lighting the cigarette. He grinned to himself and looked over at Dally - that must've been why she'd bummed the smoke off him. That was the first hint he'd seen she was related to Buck, the way she'd scammed that cigarette from him.

"What're you picking her up for?" Dally asked. "You foolin' around with her?"

"Nope."

"What then?"

He was usually glad when he gave out so little information the other person had to do all the asking. He learned early in life that to be in control, you needed to control who knew what and when they knew it. It was going to be fun telling Dally a chick had come up with a truck before he had.

"Business, Dally. She found me a truck."

"She what?"

"You heard me."

"You've gotta be kiddin' me," Dally said, staring at Tim like he half expected him to grin with the fun of a lie.

Tim looked up as Ruby trotted over on her horse, then slid off as she neared the fence rail. Her jeans were covered in dust and frayed at the cuffs, and her fitted western shirt had a rip in one sleeve. She had a smear of dirt down the side of her face and a burr in her hair.

"I just have to cool her down, clean the tack and water the stall … it'll take about a half hour?"

Tim nodded at her and watched her walk away, leading her horse.

"You're staring," Dally commented, his back against the fence rail as he lit a Kool himself.

"At what?" he replied.

"I'd guess her ass, since I'd be worried if it was the horse you was starin' at," Dally said. "You must be real hard up from jail to be lookin' her up. She's real bossy. Look at her. Looks like she fell in a trough. You won't see Sylvia caught dead with dirt all over her like that."

Dally could be a serious pain in the ass when he wanted to. Tim pushed his back off the fence rail and walked toward the stable doors, mindful to finish his cigarette first since he'd already unwittingly lost one to her and wasn't aiming to lose another. He had no doubt she'd snatch a lit cigarette out of his fingers if she was bold enough to do it to Dally, and he damn well liked that she was gutsy enough. Weak girls never held his attention long.

"Maybe you oughta make a good impression, since she's already seen your face," Dally said, following him, his voice taunting. "Go pick her some flowers or something. There's some weeds over at the side of the road, make a real nice bouquet."

"You have a nice walk back, Dally," he said as he reached Buck's car. He knew Dally had probably gone looking for it before heading here, and he was pleased to see the irritated expression on Dallas's face when he saw the car.

"You really like this chick, huh?" he asked.

Tim paused. "It's business, that's it. But it don't matter what I say, you'll think what you want."

"You could always trap her in the barn over there, have a real roll in the hay," Dally said, laughing that obnoxious laugh. "Or, you know, I could take her off your hands, saddle break her for you. Show her what a real man's made of."

Tim turned away and walked toward the stable doors and didn't turn around until he was almost inside. He turned slowly on his heel until he was facing Dally.

"Yeah, how would you do that?" he asked, walking backwards. "Word has it you think Sylvia's been bucking underneath some other cowboy. Guess that'd mean she ain't satisfied with her _real man_."

Dally's face clouded over and Tim couldn't resist smiling as the bullet hit the target. Dallas's face looked like a thundercloud, and Tim's hands were itching for a fight.

He willed Dally to step up and say he wanted to go, but Dally turned abruptly and stalked down the road, his hands jammed into his pockets and a scowl on his face.

"Pussy," Tim murmured under his breath, disappointed.

He tossed the cigarette into the dirt and ground it out with his heel, then watched Dallas's retreating figure.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ah, Tim angering Dally again. I've missed this lol. Dally seems awful touchy about Sylvia, no?


	11. Getting Into Gear

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thanks for your reviews, they make me edit and write faster lol.

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Getting Into Gear**

XXXX

_**Sunday, April 24, 1966**_

Tim stayed outside to make sure Dally didn't circle around and come back to slash Buck's tires. After satisfying himself that Winston was a guy who could dish it but not take it, Tim walked inside the stable. Ruby was brushing her horse, and she wore a fresh pair of jeans, a sleeveless blouse and a checked short-sleeved shirt she'd tied at her waist. Her face was clean, but he noticed a bandage wrapped around her elbow, blood soaking through it already. She didn't seem concerned about it.

She fed her horse a carrot and glanced over at him.

"Do you ride?" she asked.

"Used to," he said. "When I was a kid."

He paused for a second, remembering his father on horseback, leading another horse along a grassy trail, Tim sitting tall in the saddle, maybe eight years old. Curly held onto him at the waist, whining about falling. His father would give a war whoop and teach them to canter until Curly's screams had scared the horses.

"It's like riding a bike, you never forget." Ruby's voice broke into the memory, which was so real for those few seconds he expected to see his delinquent old man somewhere in the stable.

"No thanks," he said. "Let's get this done."

She nodded, a little frown line on her forehead, and followed him out of the stable. She slowed as she approached Buck's Thunderbird.

"How did you – "

"Key's were on the coffee table," he said.

"I moved them out of the bar kitchen, thinking it would keep them away from Dallas, I didn't think I had to worry about you," she said, her voice sounding a little irritated. Tim smiled to himself.

"I was gonna bring it back," he said, sliding into the driver's seat and watching as Ruby didn't even bother to open the door and hopped in the convertible, sliding down into her own seat and tossing a bag in the backseat.

"You always take other people's things like that?" she asked.

He put the keys in the ignition and looked at her with a wicked grin. "Only if it's something I really want."

She blushed and looked away, out the window. He cranked the engine. He wasn't fond of Buck's car – it was an automatic.

"Where to?" he asked.

"Oh," she said. She pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. Their fingers touched for a second, and he was surprised at how soft her hands were for someone who used them in such rough work.

He looked away, then at the paper and nodded. "I know the area. Out of town some, 'bout a twenty minute drive."

"Okay by me," she said.

XXXX

Ruby grasped the side of the seat with what was left of her short nails, unsure if she was going to make it to see the truck. Tim bombed the car around another corner, going at least fifty, dirt flying out from behind the back wheels.

"Who taught you to drive, the devil himself?" she asked, bracing herself against the dash as they hit a pothole.

"Yeah, close enough," he said.

He slowed the car down as he took both hands off the wheel to light a cigarette, and Ruby held her breath, both terrified at him driving with his knees bracing the wheel, and glad for the break from the speed.

"You know, you won't be able to drive that truck like this, unless you're aimin' to roll over and die on the highway," she said, her voice loud over the wind rushing by.

"I'll take it easy on the truck," he said. "Relax. You worry too much."

He eased off the gas a little, and they sped at reckless speed rather than breakneck. She finally relaxed enough to undo the lap belt that was cutting into her. It had been jerked tight by Tim's driving.

She looked over at his profile again, his unscarred side facing her. His hair was shorter than the other boys wore theirs – all of his friends had longer hair they slicked back. Tim used a lot of hair grease too, but the shorter hair made him stand out from the others. His skin was smooth, and his nose had a slight bump she assumed was from breaking it. It was hard to remember the other side of his face didn't look as untouched as the right side, and there were still times it startled her.

She realized Tim was very careful with the way he positioned himself since she met him. More times than not he sat or stood with his right side closest to her, as if blocking her view of the scarred left side of his face. She wondered how it had happened, who could have hurt him that badly, and why.

"You ever hurt yourself ridin' like that?" he asked. She blushed, afraid he had heard her thoughts. He seemed to be able to do everything else in the world, reading her mind didn't seem out of the question.

"Bunch of times," she said. "Broke my collarbone last summer when I fell on that same move I did today. That was the first time the keeper broke. I broke a wrist once too, and I've had more scrapes and bruises than most girls, I guess. The girls at school thought I was a tom boy."

"What do you do it for?"

"It's fun. Always a big draw at rodeos and things like that," she said. "Bella was born to it anyway, best trick riding horse I've ever seen, she's steady as the day is long, pays no mind to someone moving around so much. I don't even have to use blinders on her. Before I had to sell Bella to Buck I was giving lessons to make some money, but it wasn't enough to keep her or the ranch, I guess. My daddy went on the road full time, and I came here."

She snapped her mouth shut, feeling like an idiot for rambling about herself when he hadn't even asked.

"Your mom not around?"

"No," Ruby said.

She sensed Tim looking at her and turned her head to meet his gaze.

"She died in a sanatorium when I was twelve. Tuberculosis."

He said nothing for a few minutes and they drove in silence, just the wind whipping by the car as he sped toward the address.

"It's right up there, I can see the tractor," she said, pointing to a small clapboard house just off the road. Tim pulled in with a shower of dirt and dust.

They parked next to an old Buick, and Ruby got out and climbed the stairs to a small porch and knocked on the door. Tim prowled around the dark blue and silver truck, shining in the midday sun.

A moment later a worn looking woman answered the door, drying her hands on a towel.

"I'm Ruby Merril, Frank's daughter," she said.

"He called last night, told me you want that pile of junk over there," she said, waving a hand toward the truck, which Ruby would've called anything but a pile of junk.

"For awhile," she said. "Tim here's gonna drive it."

"I don't care if he wants to fly it to the moon. Anything to get it outta here," she said. "Frank told me you had some bit of payment for me."

Ruby nodded and walked toward the car. Tim looked at her with a questioning expression.

She took her set of keys from her pocket and unlocked the trunk. She unloaded a few of the many cases of Budweiser and Coors Banquet she'd loaded in there late last night.

"Lord have mercy, how'd you get Coors Banquet out here?" the woman asked, rushing down the stairs to look at the cases.

"It wasn't easy, lemme tell you," Ruby said. "They're all real brews, not a three point two in bunch. You get all the cases in exchange for the truck for awhile."

The woman was looking at the yellow Coors cans like she was staring at an genuine alien.

"Honey, you can take that bucket of bolts 'til Walt gets out of the pen," she said. "Lord, as I'm living and breathing …"

Ruby could see Tim watching her, his expression unreadable. Ruby started moving cases up the front porch and into the woman's house.

"I'll unload the rest," he said when she came back outside. "You can start the truck up."

Ruby nodded at him, took the keys from the woman. She unlocked the driver's door and climbed up into the tractor, marvelling at how new it was. It was a Peterbilt 351, and couldn't have been any more than a year old from the look of it. It had a five and four transmission, and a double size sleeper. She couldn't have found a more perfect truck, and she had to admit it was nicer than her daddy's 280.

She started the engine up, hearing it rumble to life, and a pang of nostalgia hit her right in the chest. That sound encompassed just about everything for her.

She ran her hand around the steering wheel and stared at all the gauges. Now they only had one problem.

Getting it out of here.

XXXX

The truck had been idling a few minutes, and the smell of diesel was in the air. Ruby was sitting in the driver's seat, staring off at the horizon like she was at a funeral. She started when he climbed up the stair to the cab, then moved out of the driver's seat to make way for him, dropping some papers on the floor.

He climbed up into the driver's seat and glanced into the sleeper cab of the truck. His breathing slowed as he watched her, bending over to pick up the papers off the floor. She was wearing a fitted pair of blue jeans, and he realized he'd never seen her in anything else.

She didn't look like the girls he usually went for, like Carolyn, who always wore skirts and was stacked up top. Ruby was a straight up-and-down kind of girl, the only thing accentuating her waist was the way she tied up that western shirt. But she looked just fine bent over in front of him, he had to admit. He looked up at the ceiling and took in a deep breath before shutting the door.

"You're gonna have to learn real quick," Ruby said, shoving papers onto the dash. "Otherwise we'll have to leave it here and come back for it. If you can get the hang of it today I can drive the Thunderbird back since it's an automatic."

"I'll get the hang of it," he said. He'd read over the little note she'd given him the night before, but hadn't paid it much attention. He'd pick it up better inside the truck than reading about it.

He turned his head and watched her bend down again, then turned his gaze back to the dashboard. It was going to be a long afternoon.

"Where'd you get the beer?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.

"Buck's stash," she said.

"He's gonna be mad," Tim chuckled.

"He ain't gonna know," she said. "Don't you breathe a word of this, but Buck never keeps track of his beer. Couldn't even tell me how many cases of what kinds he bought last weekend when he made a beer run across state lines. So I told him I'd keep track. He won't even notice they're missing, he'll just think people drank them."

He had to admire her logic. Stealing from her own cousin to pay for a truck with beer. Kid had guts. And, if he was reading her right, ulterior motives. She wasn't too good at hiding her feelings, and he could see a mile away that she liked him, the way she blushed every time she looked at him, and the way she was willing to risk Buck chewing her out for giving away all his good beer.

It bothered him. He had one rule, and that was not to mix business with pleasure, and this was business. All the more reason to get her dealings in his business over with as fast as possible and move on to other things.

He wasn't sure whether those other things were pleasure with her or not.

"Okay," she said, keeping her head ducked down to avoid hitting it on the roof of the cab. She leaned over his shoulder from behind, and he took in a sharp breath as her hair spilled onto his neck.

"These knobs are your air controls … truck air and trailer air for the brakes, push them to fill, pull them to release. This lever is the parking break," she said, demonstrating. "Get in the habit of setting them whenever you stop to get out, all three, no matter if you have a trailer or not."

"Got it," he said, smelling fresh hay in her hair.

"Transmission is a five and four," she said.

He looked down at the two shifters on his right side. He'd never in his life seen two in one vehicle.

She put a piece of paper on the steering wheel. She'd drawn the shifting pattern for both sticks. The left stick had reverse, neutral and five gears, while the right had neutral and four gears. The shifting pattern on the main was similar to a four-on-the-floor he'd driven once or twice, but the right was a U pattern.

"Left is your main, the right's the auxiliary. You shift your main, then go through the gears on the aux. Shift your main up again, go through the gears on the aux. Get it?"

"Yeah."

"Trouble comes when you shift the main to the next gear, because the aux will still be in fourth. So you gotta bring the main to the next gear while you shift the aux back to one, so they gotta shift at the same time. Some driver's go through the wheel like this."

Tim swallowed as she bent over his shoulder and took his left arm, threading it through the lower part of the steering wheel so it could grab the main, while his right hand shifted the aux.

"You gotta watch though," she said. "You crash this thing, you'll snap your wrist off in there."

She showed him all the switches on the dash, for lights, wipers, and all the pressure gauges. He paid attention to nothing, watching the other things she was showing, her shirt loosely tied at her waist, the top underneath falling away from her body slightly. She was completely unaware of the view she was giving every time she leaned over him from the side.

"Your front tires are your steers, back set are your drives, where your power comes from. Steering this thing ain't like a car. When you've got a trailer on, the trailer's back set are your bogeys," she said. "We'll get into trailers later."

"Let's get this thing moving," he said impatiently, wishing she'd sit down and quit distracting him. He remembered now why there was not a single girl in the Shepard gang, why they did their damndest to avoid involving girls in anything they did. They'd never get a damn lick of work done with a chick around.

"Let me tell you what you're going to do first," she said. "You'll want to push the air knobs, brake and then let the parking brake go. Then you can shift into first gear on the main like you would in a car, give it some fuel. It's shifting when you're moving that's the hard part. Do you float gears in your car?"

"No," Tim said. "Clutch."

"Alright, then, we'll double clutch to start."

Ruby moved to the passenger seat and sat down and before she could say another word, he pushed the clutch in and jammed the truck into first gear, moving forward with a lurch. He was surprised at the weight of the truck and how sensitive the steering was.

"It only gets worse," she said, nodding toward the wheel.

He went to shift into second and a terrible grinding noise filled the cab.

"You've gotta double clutch!" she urged. "And you can't shift the main, you gotta shift the aux now."

Tim stopped the truck before it stalled, wanting to kick it.

"When you're moving you've got to double clutch," she said. "Release the accelerator, then clutch and shift to neutral at the same time. Then release the clutch and watch your RPMs to feel for the next gear. You push the clutch and shift up at the same time to engage it, then release the clutch and accelerate at the same time. It takes some timing and practice to feel."

Tim sat still for a second, digesting what she said.

"I'm trying to match the RPMs with the gear I want," he said. He looked at the twin shifters. He hated this truck.

He felt like a pussy the way he'd almost stalled the truck. Getting a girl to teach him was a bad idea, especially one that couldn't do it herself. Jesus, it would've been ten times worse if she _could_ do it.

He started up in first and ground the gears again when going into second on the auxiliary, but this time, he worked the clutch like she said and pushed it through, and they headed onto the road. He grimaced every time the gears ground, and it took more than a second to shift into any gear. Truck driving was gonna be slow going if he couldn't figure it out faster.

The size of the truck was a bit foreboding, and this without a trailer. The steering was extremely sensitive and he found himself over correcting on every turn.

"Try turning before you think you need to," Ruby said. "It took me awhile the first time I did it. We were along this stretch of road in Texas, all these lazy turns and I almost drove us off the road a dozen times, my daddy behind me holding onto the wheel just in case I couldn't correct. I got the hang of it the longer I did it."

When they turned to go back, he stalled out shifting down and clouds of black smoke choked out of the smoke stacks, an acrid stench in the air. As they stalled out for the third time when they hit the driveway where the T-Bird was parked, he hit the wheel in frustration. He'd always prided himself on his driving ability, and now here he was stalling out, and in front of a girl no less.

"You did real good," she said. "Much better than when my daddy tried to teach me. He said I was a hopeless case, and I'd be banished to the jump seat for the rest of my days. Just about dropped his transmission out on the highway and gave him a few more grey hairs. Said the sound of me drivin' was like the apocalypse."

He said nothing.

"You thirsty? I'll be right back."

She left the truck, and he let out a breath.

She was driving him crazy with all her chatter. He could tell it was nervous energy making her talk, but he just needed to sit with the truck and figure it all out himself. It'd be a hell of a lot easier if he didn't need her. She kept looking over at him, staring at his face, and he was beginning to wonder if she was scared of the scar after all.

She came back a few seconds later and jumped back up in the cab with a Dr Pepper and a Coke and handed the Coke to him. He took a church key out of his pocket and popped the bottle caps off and they drank in silence for a few minutes.

He swirled the Coke around in the bottle, tapping it with his fingers.

"Busted pop bottle," he said.

"Excuse me?" She turned around in her seat and was facing him. That little frown line back on her forehead.

"My face. You can't tell me you weren't wondering," he said.

"Someone hit you with a broken bottle?"

"Tramp down by the railway tracks," he said, rubbing the broken side of his face. "A year back. I looked pretty good 'fore that."

He glanced over at her and paused, looking at her reaction. She flushed pink under his gaze and turned toward her window.

"Still do," she said.

She drained the rest of her drink and took his empty bottle, getting out of the truck to toss them in the back of Buck's car. By the time she'd climbed back in the truck the pink blush in her cheeks had faded.

She looked over him and nodded at him to start the truck.

She was about to speak when he held his hand up.

"Lemme try it on my own," he said, trying not to sound harsh. "I think I can get it."

That little furrow in her brow was there again, but she pasted on a smile a second later and nodded. Her shoulders were slumped despite her best efforts at not looking bothered. He hesitated before cranking the key in the ignition.

He looked over at her. "Ruby, you don't gotta try so hard."

She looked stunned for a second, then blushed to the roots again. He saw her sneak a look over at him, and he couldn't tell if she was happy or nervous.

He turned back to the road and started the engine.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Ah, poor Tim doesn't like not knowing how to do things, does he?


	12. Head Games

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** So sorry this took so long – I had to do a lot of re-writing and add a chapter, and I got so stuck. Hopefully it's worth the wait? Reviews are appreciated! Many thanks to Artemis Rex for her beta work on this - she is the reason I actually buckled down and got this done, so send reviews on her fics as a thank you lol.

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Head Games**

XXXX

_**Saturday, April 30, 1966**_

For the next week, Ruby got used to hearing the truck engine start up most mornings. Tim never knocked on the door to ask her to come along, and she was left staring at the wall feeling sad and useless.

Tim caught on fast once she stopped trying to tell him how to do it. He ignored her instructions, and she sat back and watched him figure out the gears and the clutch. By the end of that first day he was doing alright.

He drove the truck back to Buck's, with her following in the Thunderbird, and parked it at the building. He took her out the next morning with him, but by then he didn't need to. She was disappointed he took to it so fast. She envisioned being able to show him everything and earning his praise. Maybe he'd even ask her to go out to a movie or something.

But he thanked her, dropped her at the front door, then left the truck and walked down the dusty road to God-knew-where.

Since then, he started up the truck at the crack of dawn each day, and was usually gone before she could get her head off the pillow. He didn't grind a single gear, and from what she could hear as he drove away, he shifted as smooth as silk now.

He took to it like a duck to water, and her only thought now was why he was avoiding her. She was stupid to think a boy like him would want to ask her out. Lewis back home only asked her out on a dare, and Lewis rolled off a turnip truck compared to Tim Shepard.

She had that familiar feeling in the pit of her stomach, that rock that always formed when she thought about Lewis and Abilene and all the horrible things people said came flooding back. She hadn't wanted to leave the ranch, but leaving Abilene was a welcome relief. She told everyone she left school to help keep the ranch up, and that was true with her daddy away all the time, but she knew the bigger reason she left was the fall-out from her relationship with Lewis.

Tim Shepard was nothing like him, but Tim Shepard didn't appear to give one lick about her. She tried her hardest, and here she was listening to him drive off without her every morning. Everyone just drove off without her.

Saturday morning she was surprised to be awakened at six, loud grinding gears startling her out of a deep sleep. She heard a few choice curse words and hopped out of bed, pulling the hem of her nightgown down. She threw the curtains open and looked out the window.

Bill Pearce sat in the driver's seat, and Tim was in the passenger seat, gesturing wildly. She didn't know why Bill was driving, but, from the sound, he aimed to kill the truck.

They chugged off down the road a few minutes later, and a thick plume of black smoke huffed out of the smokestacks as the truck stalled in the middle of the street. It started up again a minute later and lumbered off like a lame elephant.

She listened for Buck, but her cousin was one of the soundest sleepers she knew, especially after he knocked a few back. She got under the covers and fell back asleep, but she was awakened an hour later by the same noise. She squeezed her eyes shut against the horrible grinding, then got out of bed and looked out the window. Bill climbed out of the driver's seat. He gave the front tires a good kick when he was on the ground.

"Dammit, I told you to watch the clutch!" came Tim's angry voice as he circled around from the passenger side. "You wanna pay to get it fixed?"

"This thing's a bucket of trouble," Bill said, giving the tires another kick.

Ruby covered her mouth with her hand.

"I think the problem's more that you're an idiot." Dallas Winston climbed out of the truck cab. She didn't think he was in there when they'd left, but she couldn't be sure.

She saw Tim talk to him at the stables the day he picked her up, but she didn't realize they knew each other well.

"You think it's so easy!" Bill walked around the side of the building towards the front door.

The front door creaked as it opened downstairs. Ruby dashed to her dresser and rifled through it for a pair of blue jeans and a button down shirt. She slipped into a pair of light sneakers and tied her hair up in a ponytail with a red ribbon. Dabbing on a bit of pink lip gloss, she bolted for the door and walked down the stairs to the bar.

Bill sat at the bar with his head on the table.

"Long morning?" she asked.

"I hate that thing," he sighed. "You got any coffee?

She went into the small kitchen and put on a pot. Bill excused himself to the bathroom, and Ruby glanced at the door as Tim walked inside.

"Coffee?" she asked.

He looked over at her, his expression weary and pained.

"Something stronger?" she asked with a smile.

"There's not enough alcohol in the county," he said, his voice serious. He sat down at the bar.

"He's that bad?"

"I thought I was gonna have to shoot him like a lame horse," Tim said.

"Oh, come on," Bill said, his shirt tails loose as he came back in the room. "I wasn't that bad, was I?"

Ruby stifled a laugh at the look Tim gave him, then excused herself to the kitchen, returning with coffee.

"Looks like you're sentenced to the jump seat, like me." She poured him a cup.

Bill poured a generous amount of cream in. Tim drank his black.

"How about Dallas?" she asked.

Tim looked over at her.

"I heard you guys from upstairs," she said.

"There's hope for him yet," Tim said.

"You're just mad cuz I'm better than you driving that thing." Dallas walked in and sat down at the bar. He took the cup of coffee Ruby poured for herself.

She got another mug and poured herself another cup, slamming the sugar down in front of Dallas when he asked for it.

"You ain't a morning person, huh?" he asked.

She ignored him.

"What are you learning to drive for?" Ruby asked Bill.

Bill and Tim shared a look, and Dallas smiled down at his coffee, like he knew she wouldn't get an answer. He drained his cup of coffee in record time, then stood up.

"I'm outta here," he said. "Shepard, you know who to call if you need a driver since ol' Billy here ain't gonna be any help."

"Fuck you." Bill glanced over at her. "Sorry, Ruby."

"I wouldn't apologize, she's probably got a mouth on her." Dally raised his eyebrows suggestively.

He left without another word.

Ruby realized he gave Tim enough time to not give her an answer to her question. She was about to ask again when Bill spoke up.

"You got anything to eat?" Bill asked.

Ruby pasted a smile on and went into the little kitchen, finding some bread and jam in the refrigerator. She heard them talking out in the other room, and she burned with embarrassment that Tim didn't want her knowing anything.

"We need to get on finding a trailer," Bill said.

"All I need is the plate number for now," Tim said. "That's all Dirty Dave asked for, that's all he's gettin' until he finds me a run."

Ruby excused herself a short time later, grabbed her things and took the T-Bird down to the stable, deep in thought.

XXXX

_**Monday, May 2, 1966 **_

Monday morning Tim started up the truck about three blocks from his house when he spotted Dallas walking. He heard the rumble of the engine and walked over.

"If you can really drive this thing like you did the other day, I may need you to back me up," Tim said.

"With what?"

"A job," Tim said. "I'll cut you in. It'd only be if I can't make the run."

Dallas hopped up into the driver's seat.

"What'll you be busy doing? Buck's cousin?" Dallas laughed.

Tim regretted asking Dallas to back up the job not too long after, since Dally wouldn't let up about Ruby.

"You wanna can it and learn how to drive this truck?" Tim asked, his patience wearing thin.

"I already know how," Dallas said smugly.

Dally was one of few people who pushed his buttons enough to make him lose it. The two of them prided themselves on pissing the other off, it was fun, a game, but he was wasn't in the mood for it. He still had a trailer to find and learn how to drive, and Dirty Dave needed a plate number, or else learning to drive this truck was a waste of time.

He name-dropped the type of truck he had when Dave called, and Dave took down the cab plate number. Tim had to think quick to avoid giving him the non-existent trailer plate number. Dave was going to call back on Wednesday to get it, so there wasn't much time.

Bill was his first choice as a back up driver, until he saw his skill that morning. He'd bet a hundred dollars Angela could've done a better job behind the wheel, and she couldn't even reach the clutch.

They ran into Dally on Saturday when Tim was refuelling the truck a few blocks from the cop shop.

Dally was just released from an overnight stay and wandered over and asked to drive, and since no one could be worse than Bill, Tim let Dally try his hand at it. Tim was surprised how well Dally worked the gears, and wanted to pounding him to let his frustrations out.

"You ain't gonna want any of your other guys drivin' this thing," Dally said. "Roth behind the wheel? Hamilton? I'm all you got and you know it."

Problem was, Dally was right. So when he saw him walking his way, Tim decided Dallas backing him up was better than nothing.

He got in the truck, started it up, and they drove off like he did it all his life. It ticked him off the way Dally drove the truck like he was born to it. If only Dallas would shut up about Ruby, things would be looking up.

"You sure you ain't asked her out?" Dally asked. "Cuz I think you like her."

"What the hell does it matter, Dally?" he asked for the fourth time. "I told you, I got my mind on more important things."

What Dallas had his mind on was making Tim lose his, he had no doubt about that. Being stuck in the truck with him reminded Tim of being chained to him in Louisiana. Maybe getting Dally to drive was a bad idea.

"So what's the deal with this run?"

"Don't know," Tim said. "They'll tell me where and when."

"And if you can't go for some reason, then I go and cover the run?"

"Yeah," Tim said. "You think you can handle that without fucking up?"

Dally flipped him the bird while double shifting.

They pulled into the lot in front of Buck's just as Ruby got out of Buck's car, back from the stables. Tim cursed under his breath. That was the last thing he needed. She asked a lot of questions, and he didn't want to tell her to buzz off, because he did want to ask her out.

He didn't know why. She talked a lot, she was weird, and she wanted to be in his business. She got out of the car and spotted Tim in the jump seat. He didn't miss the smile that lit up her face.

"Your girlfriend's home." Dally pulled the air brakes and setting the parking brake. He knew where every switch was, and didn't ask Tim one thing about how to drive.

"Fuck you," Tim said. "She's not my girlfriend."

Dally laughed. "Yeah? I guess it wouldn't bother you if some other guy came sniffing around her then? Maybe it wouldn't bother you if I asked her out."

"In case you forgot, you got Sylvia."

Dally grunted and shut down the engine, a scowl on his face. That only meant one thing – those two were fighting again.

"If you ain't gonna ask her out, no use in her going to waste." Dallas opened the truck door.

Ruby climbed out of the Thunderbird, shielding her eyes against the sun and looking their way.

"She ain't desperate enough to go out with you," Tim grunted, getting out the truck.

"Yeah?" Dally asked. "You sure about that?"

Dallas slammed the door shut and Tim quickly circled around the front of the truck. Dallas was walking toward Ruby.

"Shit," Tim muttered.

"Well, I guess there was some hope, it's still in one piece," Ruby said, looking over at the truck as Tim approached.

"Yeah, I didn't do too bad," Dally said. "You out ridin'?"

"For awhile." She dusted off the front of her jeans, then the back.

Tim took out a pack of Kools and lit one, cupping it against the breeze, then watched as she hitched her thumbs into the belt loops near her front pockets, then took her hands away, smoothed her shirt and ran a hand through her hair. He wondered why she was so nervous.

"You look real nice today," Dallas said. "You do something different with your hair?"

Ruby's cheeks flushed a pale pink, and she stared down at the ground for a second. "No. It's the same as always."

"You know, it's kinda good we got some Texas blood around Buck's," Dally said. "I gotta say a lot of the girls around here are kinda dull."

Ruby laughed a little.

Tim paused a second before taking a drag. He'd pound Dally into the ground later on. He turned on what he liked to think was charm, and for some stupid reason, Ruby bought right into it. Dallas didn't give a lick about her, but she lapped it up.

"Doesn't seem all that dull to me when Buck has a party," she said. "The girls around here are pretty flashy."

"Something to be said for not flashy, right?"

Ruby shrugged, a half-smile on her face. "You girlfriend's pretty flashy, Dallas."

Tim bit down on a smile. At least she hadn't forgotten that.

"You can called me Dally if you want," he said, ignoring the mention of Sylvia. "You know, there's a rodeo happening on the twenty-first, you oughta enter yourself for trick riding. Nobody around here does it."

Dallas walked over to Ruby and put his hand on her back, directing her to the front of the building.

"Really?" she asked. "You think I could? They'd let me?"

"Sure, why not?" Dallas asked. "We should go talk about it. I been around rodeos forever, an' I know some folks at this one. I could put in a good word."

Dallas looked back at Tim and grinned wolfishly. Tim resisted the urge to slit his throat from behind.

"Well, okay," Ruby said, her tone wary. "We got some pop inside, nice and cold if you want one."

"Actually … you busy right now? I could take you over to the Dingo for a Coke or 7-Up," he said. "Maybe meet some other people around here, huh? We could take Buck's car."

Tim paused as he brought the cigarette to his lips. Dallas aimed to get his ass beat later, he could tell. He took a quick drag, watching Ruby to see her response.

"What's the Dingo?" she asked.

"It's a drive-in hamburger joint, past the overpass," Dallas said. "Everybody goes there."

"Really?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

Tim studied her, wondering why she was so eager to eat a lousy hamburger and a Coke. With Dallas Winston.

He wanted to say something, but that's exactly what the fucker was waiting for. Tim watched Ruby's expression, but he glanced away when she looked toward him. Dally sure had balls to do this right in front of him.

"Well, I'd sure like to get out and meet some people and see where everybody hangs out," she said. "I haven't seen much around here yet. Is it where all the kids our age go?"

"You ain't goin' nowhere," Buck's voice interrupted. The screen door slammed. "Where the hell is all my Coors gone?"

Tim never thought he'd be relieved to see Buck Merril, but there it was.

"What Coors?"

"Don't 'what Coors' me," Buck said. "Half the cases are gone from the cellar."

"It's not gone," Ruby said. "You just aren't looking in the right place, I swear it's down in the corner, past those rolls of old newspaper stacked up like cord wood."

Buck turned around and marched inside and Ruby turned toward Dallas.

"If we're going, we're going now," she said. "Come on."

She yanked Dallas toward the Thunderbird, and Dally pulled out a set of keys. It didn't go unnoticed by Ruby either.

"Jesus, does everyone around here have a set?"

Ruby looked over at Tim, and he kept his expression blank. She looked down at her hands for a moment, then back at him, that little line creasing her forehead again. Dallas babbled on about something to do with horses. He cranked the engine and pulled out of the lot, spraying rocks and dust.

Tim stood there, seething. That asshole needed his face pounded into the ground.

"There ain't no Coors in that cellar, and half my Bud is gone!"

Buck looked around at the settling dust.

"Where the hell did she go? And where's my car?"

Tim turned toward Buck. "Dallas took her out."

He heard the groan from Buck and secretly agreed. Tim turned away and walked down the street toward his house.

Winston was asking for it.

* * *

**A/N:** Ah, Dallas. Pissing off Tim Shepard since the dawn of time. We'll get to visit the Dingo in the next chapter - and how will that go?


	13. The Dingo

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders, and I'm just borrowing them to have some fun.

**Author's Note:** Sorry I haven't been able to reply to anyone - had a very busy week of family and cats visiting lol. Hopefully now that it's all over I can concentrate on writing again. BTW, I've dropped the song lyrics. I realized I was spending more time listening to music and picking out song lyrics than I was working on the chapters lol.

* * *

**Chapter 13 – The Dingo**

XXXX

_**Monday, May 2, 1966**_

Ruby looked over at Dallas as they drove down toward the Dingo. He hadn't asked to drive, he just zipped right over to the driver's seat and got in like he owned the car.

She was too busy being glad to escape Buck to get too annoyed over it. It figured her cousin would notice the missing beer after paying attention to nothing the last few weeks.

Dallas drove the car hard, but he wasn't a frightening driver like Tim. He went on about the rodeo – how he would ride in some of the races and what other events they'd have.

"They ain't had trick riding in it for a long time. I remember a couple years back they had a guy doing bareback tricks and stuff, but not quite like you were doing. The horse just moved in a circle and someone had a lunge line."

"Sounds like vaulting," Ruby said. "It's sort of like gymnastics on a horse."

"And what you do ain't?" Dallas laughed.

She laughed too. Sometimes she forgot how trick riding looked to people who never saw it before. She was comfortable flipping around on Bella, and it didn't seem acrobatic to her while she did it.

She studied Dally's profile. She wasn't sure why he asked her to the Dingo – one minute he was derisive and making lewd comments, the next he was acted nice and took her out to meet people.

She hoped she could meet some friends. She liked going to the stable every day, but it'd be nice to have a girlfriend or two to go out with some time. She glanced at Dallas again. It might even be nice to go out on a date on a Saturday night, even if it was just with a friend. Dallas certainly wasn't handsome, but she wasn't a beauty queen either, not like his girlfriend.

That bothered her enough to say something.

"Look, it's real nice you wanted to talk about the rodeo an' all," Ruby said. "But I know you got a girlfriend, and I'm not like that."

"Who said anything about a girlfriend?" Dallas asked. "We broke up."

"Oh," Ruby said. She wondered if he asked her to the Dingo just to talk about the rodeo. There wasn't anything against them being friends, and maybe she ought to stop looking a gift horse in the mouth.

They cruised below the underpass and turned right into a dirt lot soon after. Cars were parked haphazardly around the dusty lot. Some picnic tables were dotted around the side of the building or under trees, and kids were all over the parking lot. There was a small restaurant, and it looked jam-packed with kids. It was almost five o'clock, and the sun was low in the sky. It reminded her of the little diner back home where all the kids hung out.

Dallas stopped the car and pulled the emergency brake. Ruby got out and rubbed her damp palms against her jeans.

Most of the boys looked like Dallas, Tim and the boys who came to Buck's – greased hair, blue jeans and t-shirts. Some wore leather jackets despite the temperature, and a lot of them had old, beat-up cars with souped up engines. The girls wore skirts or fitted blue jeans, not riding ones like she wore. Their hair was done up to high heaven, and they wore more makeup than Ruby had ever put on. She felt naked. She barely ran a comb through her hair after she left the stable that afternoon, and she smelled like hay and horses.

"Come on." Dallas put a hand between her shoulder blades and propelled her forward.

She was scared now. It seemed like a good idea to get out and meet people, but kids watched them as they walked toward the restaurant, and it made her nervous.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and followed him inside the packed little building.

"Here, lemme get us a booth."

Dallas went to a booth near the windows where a few junior high kids sat. A second later they scattered to the wind like the devil was after them. They breezed past Ruby toward the exit.

She walked over and slid in the booth, trying to ignore others' gazes.

"You wanna Coke or something?" Dally asked.

"Um, Dr Pepper?"

"They don't got it here. They got a cherry cola though."

"Alright," Ruby said.

She wiped her hands on her jeans again after Dally left the booth and studied the pattern on the table. A table of girls nearby eyed her coolly. She looked out the window, feeling like she ought to slide under the table.

"Well now, look who's here." Two-Bit Mathews slid into the booth.

Ruby smiled, relaxing a little. "Hi."

"What brings you down here all by your lonesome?" he asked.

"She ain't by her lonesome."

Two-Bit looked up at Dallas, then slid out of the booth, his gaze still on him. "That right? They let you out this morning?"

Dallas nodded before he slid into the booth and passed her the cherry cola.

"I'm surprised to see you two here." Two-Bit raised an eye-brow at Dallas.

A tense look passed between them, and Ruby took a sip of her drink, feeling self-conscious at the weird tension.

"Me an' Ruby are talking about the rodeo," Dallas said. "I'm gonna convince her to enter."

"Doing what? Barrel racing?"

She shook her head, relaxing again as the tension dispersed. "No, trick riding. I've been doing it for years, but I only performed in a rodeo once."

"Two-Bit." A familiar blonde girl wearing blood-red lipstick approached.

"Hey, Kath. Ruby, this is Kathy Pearce, you know her brother Bill from around Buck's."

"Hi," Ruby said. She was surprised this blonde girl was related to dark-haired Bill. They didn't look alike, but there was something familiar all the same.

"Hi," Kathy said, her voice cool. A group of girls, the ones that had been sitting at the table nearby, came over to the table.

"Two-Bit, you wanna go get me a Coke?" Kathy asked.

Two-Bit gave Dallas a pointed look, then sauntered off to the counter.

"Dallas," Kathy said. "What brings you here?"

"I needed a drink. People need drinks. It's hot out."

The other girls looked her over, and Ruby stared down at the table.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" Kathy asked. Her voice dripped with sweetness, but it was as fake as the day was long.

Dally's eyes darted from Ruby to the girls.

"This is Ruby, she's Buck's cousin," Dallas said. "She's gonna enter the rodeo. This is Kathy, an' Evie and Sandy."

Dallas slid down into the seat a little, playing with his ring finger. Ruby saw a faint tan line around his finger.

"Hi." Ruby smiled at the girls. "I don't think I've seen y'all around Buck's before."

"We go sometimes," said Evie, who had short, dark hair. "With Sylvia."

"Why don't you girls get lost?" Dallas asked. "Ain't Soda off work soon, Sandy? Steve too, huh, Evie?"

Ruby was convinced they'd shoot daggers at Dallas if they could. They wandered back toward their table.

"Don't pay them any mind," Dallas said. "They're just mad I dumped Sylvia."

"Oh." Ruby tried to put the weird feeling in the pit of her stomach out of her mind. It was like being back at high school, sitting in the bleachers watching the football games, gaggles of girls pointing and laughing. It was unbearable, it was happening all over again, and none of them even knew her.

"I gotta hit the men's room, I'll be back," Dallas said. "Don't go nowhere."

She wouldn't know where to go if she wanted to leave. She finished the last of her drink and bent the straw around her finger.

A shadow fell across the table. "It's pretty low what you're doing," Evie said. "Dallas may have asked you out, but you ought to know better."

"Know better about what?" Ruby asked. "It's not a date or nothing, I swear it. He was just wanting to tell me about the rodeo."

"Uh huh," Kathy said. "Look, I'm no stranger to people cozying up to my boyfriend – believe me - but if you know what's good for you, you'll stop hanging around Dally before his girlfriend rips you a new one."

Kathy leaned over; her nails were as red as her mouth. "And trust me, if you think I'm scary you don't want to see Sylvia all riled up when someone's trying to get their claws into her boyfriend."

The blood rushed from her head as she took in the girl's words. "I-I thought they broke up?"

"Did Dallas tell you that?" the blonde girl – Sandy – asked.

Ruby could only manage a nod.

"Well," Kathy said. "I bet Sylvia would be interested in hearing about that."

"I didn't mean nothing by it, I swear!" Ruby said, standing up.

The girls already were moving through the crowd to the entrance, and Ruby sat down in a panic.

"Oh Jesus," she breathed.

"Hey, you wanna go drive by the rodeo grounds? You can check the place out and see what it's like?" Dallas asked.

"It's getting kind of late," Ruby said. "Buck's probably on a tear about the beer, and he'll lose it if I don't get back in time to make dinner."

Dallas shrugged and walked out of the restaurant with her.

She followed after him and got in the Thunderbird without a word. Maybe those girls wanted to scare her. Maybe Sylvia didn't want to break up – Dallas said he broke up with her. Maybe they wanted to make sure no one got their hooks into him until she could get him back.

And anyway, she didn't want to date him. Hell, all she wanted was to meet some people, and now those girls thought she was a boyfriend-stealer.

"What's got you so quiet?" Dallas asked. "I didn't think it was possible."

Ruby attempted a smile. "Oh, just thinking, that's all."

They arrived back at Buck's in no time, and Ruby turned to thank him for the Cherry Coke. Before she said a word, he placed a hand on her shoulder and slid it up the side of her neck, pulling her to him.

She had no time to think before his lips met hers. His lips were soft and insistent, and a second later she came to her senses and pushed him away.

"Look, I'm not like that," she said, her face hot. "Those girls said you and Sylvia weren't broke up, is that the truth?"

"What does it matter?" Dallas asked, a smile on his face. "We're just having some fun, right?"

"Fun?" Ruby shoved him again. "You got a real wise idea about fun!"

She got out of the car and slammed the door, then turned around.

"Wait a minute! That's our car! You get out!"

Dallas grinned at her as he cut the engine.

"And gimme those keys!"

He tossed his set to her.

"You can't blame a guy for trying, right?" Dallas asked. He got out of the car.

"It's not funny!" Ruby said. "Those girls said all sorts of things, they're gonna put it around I'm some kind of boyfriend snatcher. Which I'm not."

Dallas's eyes narrowed. "What girls? You mean Kathy an' them?"

"They came around when you were in the bathroom," she said. "Told me to stay away from you and that Sylvia would be real upset. You're just awful. They all thought it was some kind of date, you know."

Dallas looked up at the heavens. "Jesus Christ, you're aiming to get me killed, huh?"

Ruby shook her head and turned around, headed for the door.

"We're still friends, aren't we?" Dallas asked, his tone amused

Ruby turned around, looked at him for a second and rolled her eyes. "You are so aggravating."

He flashed her a smile. "But you can't resist, right?"

She went inside and slammed the door. She heard him laughing as he walked off.

XXXX

"Where in the hell did you go, and why did you go there with Dallas Winston?"

Buck didn't even say hello as she walked into the apartment.

"Keep your shirt on, Buck, he just took me to the Dingo for a pop," she said. "He's lousy, you know."

"The Dingo's a rough place," Buck said.

"You know that's what everyone says about your place, right?"

Ruby went into the kitchen and put on a pot of water. She started peeling potatoes and cutting them up, satisfied with the heavy cuts chomping through the potatoes into the cutting board.

"I still can't find that beer," Buck said. "You can't be giving it out to every hood you think looks good in a pair of tight jeans."

"Buck! I didn't do anything of the sort," she said, thinking that it was technically true.

"Yeah, well, I'm keeping an eye on it, so don't get any wise ideas."

"I bet someone broke in and made off with it," she said.

Buck grunted at her, then headed for the door. "I'll be back in a half hour. Gonna check the horses."

He shut the door behind him, and she continued chopping until she tired herself out. She left the potatoes on to boil and flopped down on the couch.

She looked forward to making a friend or two, and now Sylvia and all her friends were going to think she was on some kind of man-hunt – and for Dallas Winston!

She got the feeling she was the butt of his joke the whole time, but she still wondered why he kissed her. It wasn't like anyone was around to see it.

She hugged a couch pillow. She might have to settle for not having a friend in the world here, outside of her horse.

Tim would probably hear all about it and think she was fast. Jesus, he would never ask her out now that everyone thought she went on a date with Dallas.

The water in the pot hissed as it boiled over onto the burner. Ruby got up to finish dinner, lonely and disappointed.

* * *

**A/N:** So has she ruined her chances with Tim, and is she in for it with the girls?


	14. Playing With Fire

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** So sorry for the delay – computer was stolen, and it took me forever to get things organized and deal with insurance stuff. I'd definitely appreciate any reviews!

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Playing with Fire**

_**Monday, May 2, 1966 **_

"Why so tense?"

Tim sat up on the edge of the bed at the warehouse, and Carolyn's hands plied across his shoulder blades, digging into the muscle. He locked his hand around her wrist and pulled it away. She sat down beside him and ran her hand up his arm. He swatted it away.

He stood up and pulled his underwear and jeans back on, then lay down on his back on the thin mattress. He stayed at the downtown place more often than not now. Sometimes he felt bad leaving Curly and Angela back at that house - especially Angel. But Curly'd watch out for her or he'd have it coming.

Carolyn straddled his hips and laid down on top of him, her lips brushing his collarbone.

"Go get dressed," he said, the wheels turning in his mind.

"You're sure in a lousy mood." She sat up and crawled off him, then got up to find her clothes, scattered across the room. She took a small bottle of perfume out of her purse and sprayed it on her neck. "Cops hassling you again?"

"Nope. Winston this time."

"Dally's trouble." She leaned over and nipped his ear with her teeth. Jesus Christ, why did girls think that was hot? She was so close, her perfume made him nauseous.

"Dally's a bastard," he agreed. "You wanna quit that?"

She ran a hand up his thigh, like they hadn't just been going at it like rabbits.

"I don't know why Sylvia Peterson goes with him," Carolyn said. "He's too rough."

She tried to get a rise out of him – that was her game. She got a rise out of him one way, now it was time for the other since she wasn't getting her way. She expected him to be surprised she was with Dally or wanted him to think she was. The problem was, he didn't care.

He said nothing, and the irritation was plain on her face.

"Dallas Winston's not bad looking." Carolyn's voice was syrupy. She drained the last half inch of his beer from the bottle on the table. "Those cold blue eyes. Something about them."

He took another drag, resisting the bait she threw out.

"You about done?" he asked. "Get your clothes on and get going."

"He's real intense looking." She pulled on her skirt with a shimmy and did up the little buttons on her blouse. One was missing.

"Yeah, and I bet he spent all of five minutes with you once he was done fucking you," Tim said.

"You're a real bastard, you know that," Carolyn said, dropping the soft teasing voice. She tossed one of the pillows at him. "See if I ever come back here and spend time with you again!"

"You'll be back, Carrie," he assured her, using the nickname just to tick her off.

"Now why would I? Plenty of guys around here that fight as good as you, that lead as good as you and ain't in prison every five seconds. Bobby Green comes to mind."

"Bobby Green's got shit for brains," he answered.

"Well at least he ain't all cut up like Frankenstein!" she hollered, pitching the empty beer bottle at him. He was adept at ducking flying objects thanks to all the years living at home, and the bottle sailed by his face as he dodged out of the way.

Carolyn slammed the door on her way out, and Tim lowered his head down onto the pillow and rubbed the scar on his face.

Punching Dally would be comforting right now. But he had another idea to get his attention.

If Dallas wanted to mess things up with him and Ruby, he'd return the favour. Ruby was a half decent kid – a naïve kid, if he read her right. There wasn't a broad around here that couldn't see Dally's tricks a mile away, and she fell right into them. A little payback was in order.

He picked up the shards of glass off the mattress and put them in an ashtray by the bed.

Tim leaned back against the thin feather pillow and smiled. He knew one way to get Dally back that wouldn't fail.

XXXX

_**Tuesday, May 3, 1966**_

Tuesday morning Ruby thought hard as she cantered Bella around the ring. She practiced her hippodrome stand, a move where she stood up in the saddle, her feet in special straps near the withers just for this purpose. She had a flag she usually draped out behind her, but she lost it in a sudden wind gust a few days earlier and had to settle for just making the motion.

She got down into the saddle again and slowed her horse. Bella's white mane reminded her of Dally's hair, which was kind of funny since his horse Zephyr's mane was as dark as her own hair.

She tried to puzzle out why Dally had kissed her the day before, but nothing that made sense came into her head. It wasn't like anyone was there to witness it, so it wasn't him showing off.

She sighed. She didn't know what she would say to Tim the next time he came around. She didn't want him to think she liked Dallas, but God knew what people were saying about her now. Dallas probably blabbed all over town about it.

She went with Lewis for awhile before Christmas and he was alright at first, but it's not like she would fall out of her saddle looking at him or anything. All the girls at school had teased her about not kissing a boy and being behind them in everything. So when Lewis wanted to go further, she hadn't stopped him.

She knew after making it with him she must be missing something. All the girls at school talked about boyfriends like they were the greatest thing ever. Lewis turned out to be anything but alright in the end. She hadn't even liked it much, and she chalked it up to just being different than the other girls, yet again.

She thought finding the truck would impress Tim, and it had, for about five minutes. For someone so smart he was pretty dense with all the hints she dropped. Maybe she wasn't cut out for snagging a man.

She brought Bella into the stable and spent a half hour on her with the curry comb, to Bella's delight. She gathered her things and tossed them in the back of the car, her gaze resting on the flat bed in the yard.

Buck had hay delivered every few weeks, and the driver dropped the new flat bed, and took the empty back with him. Ruby wandered around to the back of the unit and saw it had trailer plates.

She marched into the stable and found a screw driver in the office and set to liberating them.

XXXX

Tim sat in Bill's car, the engine idling, as he watched a group of girls inside a diner. The movie got out at ten, and they'd been sitting inside gabbing their heads off for nearly an hour. He lit another cigarette and blew a stream of smoke out into the night air.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they stood up from the table. He was gearing up to gun the engine and separate her from the herd when they split up and Sylvia began walking up the street alone.

Number one, it was a stupid move, even in their neighbourhood, for a girl to walk alone after dark. Number two, now there was no audience to witness him picking her up. He sighed and gunned the engine anyway, catching up with her a minute later on a cross street.

She glanced over her shoulder, then rolled her eyes.

"Tim."

"What're you doing out here all by your lonesome?"

"Walking home. You know that since you've been watching the restaurant for the last half hour."

His struggled to keep the surprise from his face, but she laughed anyway.

"You boys always think you're so slick, but us girls notice more than you think. Sandy's gonna owe me a quarter tomorrow. I bet her you'd stop me."

"Well, if you don't wanna ride that's just fine with me."

She crossed her arms and studied him, a slight smile on her face and her blonde curls blowing gently in the breeze. She made a pretty picture.

"I'm never one to turn down a ride. Even if it is with you. Mind your lead foot though, will you? I don't want the wind messing up my hair."

She crossed in front of the car, the headlights highlighting her bare legs and the skirt that skimmed the top of her knees. She opened the door and climbed in. He gunned the engine a few times, she gave him a look, and he pulled away from the curb without leaving too much rubber on the asphalt.

He drove toward her house, taking a turn fast and bracing his right palm on Sylvia's knee. She patiently picked it up and moved it back.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to," she said.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"I heard all about Dallas's trip to the Dingo with that girl," Sylvia said. "Now, from what I saw at Buck's, that little thing is so distracted by you she can't think straight, so I have to assume Dallas asked her there to get under your skin. Never mind that it gets under mine. That boy don't think straight."

Tim watched the road, not looking over at Sylvia. He could tell her gaze was on him though, she was practically burning holes in the side of his head.

"You think fair's fair, and you're going to make sure Dallas hears about this. Only Dally has nothing to hear about because nothing's happening."

"You sure about that?"

Sylvia sighed. "You boys have lost your minds. Why don't you concentrate on getting Miss Bartender in your bed instead of Dallas's fist upside your head? It'd make everyone happier, me included."

Tim pulled up in front of her house, and saw a shadow pass around the side of the porch. He blood was fired up, adrenaline kicking through his system. This was even better than him hearing it through the grapevine.

"Come on now, Syl, be nice," Tim said, stretching an arm across the back of her seat. She raised an eyebrow at him and looked at the arm.

"Smooth, Shepard. I didn't notice a thing."

"I owe you a favour for helping me out at prom last year."

"And your idea of a favour is trying to make it with me in the car so Dallas finds out? Boy, you got a real funny idea about favours. Let me do you one. Get lost, Tim"

He grinned at her. If there had been something there – some kind of spark, some sort of thrill in his stomach when he flirted with her, then he could see fireworks with her for a long time. But for some reason, there never had been. A failed date when they were kids, and nothing more ever came of it. It was a shame.

He leaned forward, took her chin in his hand and kissed her right on the lips. It took a split second, but her purse was upside his head in record time.

She shoved his chest and got out of the car.

He opened the door and followed her up the walk, closing the gap with his long strides. He took her by the arm and she tried to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist just in time.

"You really think Dally was a perfect gentleman with Ruby the other day? Not what I heard," he said, leaning close to her ear.

"He'll get his, don't you worry. Now get off me!"

"Yeah Shepard, get off her."

Tim stepped back, the blood pounding merrily in his ears. Dallas emerged from the darkness at the side of the porch and chucked his lit cigarette onto the sidewalk. He saw Sylvia roll her eyes.

"Great," she muttered.

"You wanna get inside?" Dallas asked her. "Me an' Tim are gonna have a discussion."

"Y'all aren't having anything, now Shepard, get lost. Dallas, we gotta talk. I heard all about your little date at the Dingo."

"Wasn't nothing."

"That's what you say. The girls said something different."

Dallas hadn't taken his eyes off Tim. He was waiting for that first punch. Dallas could be unpredictable. It's what made fighting him so much fun.

He pushed Sylvia back out of the way.

"You got a real problem putting your hands on what's mine," Dally snarled at him.

"Same goes for you."

Dallas barked out disbelieving laughter. "You gotta stake your claim before it's yours."

"I ain't anyone's property." Sylvia crossed her arms, shooting daggers at the back of Dallas's head. Dally wasn't listening to a word she said.

"You gotta learn some manners, Shepard."

Dallas took a swing and clipped the side of Tim's head, but he sidestepped it quick enough so it didn't do much damage. He nailed Dallas in the eye, happy he'd walk away with at least a swollen eye and his pride hurt.

Before he could swing again, Dallas clocked him in the nose. Pain bloomed behind his eyes as he heard the crunch of his nose breaking.

"You fucking asshole!" Tim swore.

"Keep your hands off what's mine and we ain't got no problem!"

"Keep it down!" Sylvia hissed.

Dallas came at Tim again and he stepped to the side, expecting a swing from Dallas, but instead, Dally's hand shot out, arcing across his midsection. Tim saw the glint of the knife at the last second and didn't make it back far enough. He heard the t-shirt rip, felt the cold steel of the blade against his midsection and lunged at Dallas when his hand had swung past. Tim shoved Dallas back, bending his wrist and hearing the knife clatter to the cement with a clang.

Sylvia was trying to get between them, hissing at them to quit it before her old man heard something. The front porch light flicked on, and Dallas swore. Tim stumbled back. His t-shirt was warm and wet, clinging to his skin, and he was beginning to feel sick.

Dallas swore again, snatched up the knife and disappeared into the darkness. Sylvia looked from Dallas's disappearing form to Tim, her eyes wide.

"Get going!" she hissed. "Dammit, go!"

Tim stumbled toward the car as Sylvia went to the front door and fumbled with her keys, aiming to head off her old man. He pulled away from the curb, blood soaking his clothes. All he wanted was a fight and to set some boundaries with Dallas. Now he had the St. Valentine's Day Massacre all over Bill's car. Dallas was fucked up.

He had to make it downtown where Bill was crashing tonight or he wasn't going to make it anywhere ever again.

XXXX

Buck's place was dead quiet that night. Buck was upstairs passed out drunk since he got the news his teeth were gonna cost a few hundred dollars more than he thought and he was short on the cash. Ruby felt bad – Buck didn't have as much Coors to sell as he thought now either, and all because of her. She really shouldn't be so awful to him, he was giving her a place to live.

Since it wasn't a party night, the second floor was deserted.

Not a single person dropped by for a beer or drink since Ruby turned all the neon lights off. She discovered the trick when Buck told her he wanted a night of peace without an interruption. Apparently the neon signs were enough to advertise a party to anyone who came looking.

She was afraid it might discourage Tim from showing up, but if there was one thing she noticed, it was that Tim did what he wanted, and a neon sign wouldn't stop him.

The past few nights had gotten cool, despite the warm days, and Ruby was wearing an old cotton night gown that stopped mid calf, and a very old robe that had been her mother's. It was a pale green and yellow, with a white top with lace shirring, and a pretty satin ribbon to tie it shut. It was a little old fashioned, but kept the cool breeze from chilling her.

She padded downstairs in bare feet and unlocked the beer cellar, taking out a few Olympias and hiding them so Buck wouldn't give them away or sell them. She stashed a few Millers for herself and locked the door up again. Buck had lectured her eight ways to Sunday after she'd told him she may have 'accidentally' let the beer walk off, but not enough to take away her key.

Just as she came around the corner into the main room, a loud commotion on the front steps made her jump. The knocking at the door sounded like rifle fire, and she rushed over and opened it, surprised to see Bill standing there, supporting Tim's weight.

"What happened?" she asked, her heart pounding. Bill half-dragged Tim inside.

"He got into it with Dallas Winston," Bill said, straining from supporting Tim's weight. "There some place I can put him down?"

"Upstairs." Ruby rushed over near the cash box and grabbed the set of keys Buck had for the rooms upstairs.

She dashed upstairs in front of Bill and circled around to the room nearest the stairs. It was furnished sparsely, only a metal framed double bed against one wall, a rocking chair in a corner and a single dresser against another wall. Bill crashed into the room, and Ruby ran over to help him.

"Shit, this is some bumpy ride," Tim mumbled.

"What's wrong with him?" Ruby asked as Bill placed him on the bed.

She could see Tim's nose was broken, blood smeared on his face. His eyes were glazed over and he was trying to smile at her as he reached for her, his knuckles raw and bleeding.

"Is he drunk?" she asked, leaning closer.

"Had to be," Bill said, nodding toward Tim's midsection. Blood had soaked through and began to dry on his ripped green t-shirt and Ruby hesitated a second before lifting it.

"Oh my God," she said.

He'd been slashed from below his ribs on the left side, and the gash moved across and down his midsection to his right hip. But the gaping wound had been sewn shut crudely, with thick black thread.

"Who did this?" she asked, horrified at what she was seeing.

"I stitched him up best I could, he said no hospital," Bill told her. "He means it too, don't go calling an ambulance."

She looked back down at the wound in shock, and Bill walked over to her and grabbed her shoulders.

"No ambulance, no hospital, you got that?" Bill said, shaking her roughly. "You promise?"

"I promise," she said, fearing Bill for the first time. The anger in his eyes was plain. He released her suddenly, and she caught her balance. "When I asked who did this, I meant who hurt him."

"And I told you, Dally and him went at it."

"Dallas did this?" Ruby asked, feeling sick. "But he's his friend …"

"Tim messed around with Dally's girl or something, and Dallas got wind of it best I can tell. Tim's lucky he ain't dead. He'll be real mad about his nose, though." Bill looked at her for a moment. "Dally ain't lookin' too hot either, don't worry."

Tim was with Dallas' girl? Ruby felt a surge of anger. Tim moaned when he tried to sit up, and Bill pushed him back down onto the bed. Tim opened his eyes a little, and they lazily focused on her.

"Hey kid," Tim said. He swallowed and his eyes rolled back in his head as Bill put a pillow behind it. The anger ebbed away as she saw the pain etched on his face.

"Drank almost a half bottle of straight bourbon before I sewed him up," Bill said. "You alright to look after him til the morning?"

"Me?"

"I gotta go take care of the boys, let 'em know Tim's okay. A couple of 'em saw Tim come in to our downtown place and all hell's gonna break loose if they hear who did it, which they will. Our boys can't know how bad this is or we're in for it with our boys and ones Dally runs with. This ain't what we need right now, I gotta smooth it all over 'fore some knucklehead of ours runs over there with a shotgun lookin' for him."

"Okay," Ruby said, looking at Bill with trepidation.

"Give him these when he wakes up," Bill said, handing her a vial with some pills in it. "Penicillin. So he won't get infection."

Ruby watched Bill go, her mouth hanging open, Tim humming in his drunken stupor.

* * *

**A/N:** So Dally got a little serious on Tim. Now he's bleeding half to death (NOT on the Curtis couch lol) and Ruby gets to take care of him ... whether that's good or bad for Tim, who knows?


	15. Patching Things Up

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** So this has always been one of my favourite chapters. I'm not sure why since it's really short … maybe I just gravitate to the quieter chapters. Or maybe I just like it when Tim is drunk, I don't know lol. Comments are appreciated and make me write faster!

* * *

**Chapter 15 – Patching Things Up**

_**Early Wednesday, May 4, 1966 **_

Ruby heard the door close downstairs when Bill left. The faint sound of a car engine started up and she looked out the window and saw tail lights disappear down the street.

She sighed and walked back over to the bed. Tim's eyes fluttered, and he was silent, the sound of his even breathing the only thing letting her know he was still alive.

She stared for a moment, unsure what to do.

She lifted the edge of his tattered shirt up and her stomach heaved as she saw the crude black thread holding the wound together. She was no ace at sewing, but Bill had mangled it up badly.

She looked out toward the stairs, confident Buck didn't hear a thing, or else he'd have been downstairs asking what the heck was going on already.

She stared at Tim for a minute. She wanted to load him in the car and cart him off to a hospital, but Bill had scared her. The way he talked it would be the wrong move to take him somewhere and the last thing she wanted was to get Tim in trouble. A gash like that … well, it meant he was in trouble.

She padded out of the room and down the stairs, avoiding the creakiest ones. She picked up the phone in the makeshift kitchen and made the call with trepidation. She wasn't technically disobeying, and anyway, Tim might croak if those stitches got infected.

She went back to the second floor with a shallow basin and filled it with cool water. She brought the basin and a cloth into Tim's room and set them on the nightstand. She pulled the rocking chair near the bed, sat down and wiped Tim's brow.

He was out of it, barely able to open his own eyes, but was at least aware someone was there. He kept trying to look around at where he was.

His had groped the air, and Ruby took it gently, setting it down on the bed.

"Shh," she said. "Don't move too much. You're liable to tear those awful stitches."

He relaxed at the sound of her voice and lay still as she wiped his face down. His nose, which looked broken again, was crusted with blood. When his face was clean, she gently bathed his raw knuckles, the water in the bowl turning the colour of rust. She looked down at the ugly wound on his midsection, wondering how on earth Dallas Winston could gut his own friend.

"Bill sure must hate you," she whispered, lowering his tattered shirt down over the wound again. She was startled when his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Tim?" She leaned over him.

"Hey kid," he said, his voice raw. "Shit … I hate bein' this drunk. Ain't … ain't got no control."

At least he knew he was drunk. She dipped the cloth in the water and wiped his forehead, eliciting a little chuckle from him.

"Ain't got a fever," he said, his eyes remaining closed.

"I know," she answered. "My momma used to do this, no matter what ailed me. Made me feel better."

"You're … a good kid," Tim said. He opened his eyes. They were glazed over and it took a minute for him to focus on her. "Pretty, too."

She huffed out a puff of air. "That's the whiskey talking."

She smiled at him, then froze when he brought a hand up and cupped her face.

"Nah," he whispered, pulling her head down toward his. She turned her face away – his breath was 150 proof at least – and gently manoeuvred out of his way. She didn't quite like him this way somehow. It scared her.

"Tim, what the hell happened?"

"Dally," he said simply. He didn't seem bothered that she'd turned him away.

"Why'd he do this?" She stroked his forehead.

"Dally got the message … knows now … he knows," Tim said, a wry smile on his face.

"Knows what?"

"He doesn't mess with mine, an' I don't mess with his."

"With your what?" she asked. He wasn't making a lick of sense.

Tim laughed. "He's got it bad, no matter what he says."

A staccato knock at the door downstairs interrupted them. Ruby placed the cloth on Tim's forehead. His chest rose and fell with each even breath. He had passed out cold.

She rushed down the stairs and opened the door for Doctor Jenkins.

"Ruby, you said you had a sick horse, and I don't see a single horse anywhere around these parts," he said.

"Well, that's because I lied," she said. "He's upstairs, and it's bad."

He climbed the stairs after her, his stout frame causing him to puff the whole way. He paused in the doorway.

"I don't usually work on two legged patients." He wiped his brow with a handkerchief and walked into the room, then bent over the bed.

Ruby raised up the shirt and the doctor recoiled.

"What in the…"

"You can't say anything to anyone," she begged. "Can you fix it? It was a real bad amateur job."

"I'll say," he said, his moon face hovering over Tim's midsection.

"I seen you patch up Paso after he run into the razor wire last week, real good," she said, losing all pretence of good grammar and sounding more like her father than she ever had. She shivered, unsure if it was nerves or a chill in the room. Tim was awfully pale.

"What'd he do that he's not in a hospital?" the doctor asked.

She shrugged. "I dunno. That's the God's honest truth. He got in a fight."

"You're gonna have to help me," the doctor said.

He laid out some cat gut from his big medical bag, and pulled on some gloves, then handed her a pair. He rifled through his bag again and gave her a pair of big scissors and told her to cut the shirt off. It was ruined anyway, and she clipped the material carefully, from hem to neck, then down each sleeve, exposing Tim's pale skin, his chest rising with each breath.

"I ain't got nothing but horse tranq's in here," the doctor said.

"He's out anyway." She shook Tim's arm, but he didn't stir. "Bourbon."

Doctor Jenkins looked up at the heavens for a second. He took a pair of small silver scissors and cut through all the stitches Bill had badly placed, picking out the threads and swearing under his breath, which was always followed by a quick apology toward Ruby. She looked away when he cut the last one, and blood oozed from the wound.

He took a bottle of Jack Daniels out of his bag, wet a cloth and wiped down the area of the wound. Tim made a feeble protest from the bed, and the doctor handed the square bottle to Ruby.

"Keep it," he said. "Give him a few sips if he wakes up. I'm gonna need more light."

She moved a floor lamp from another room inside Tim's room and refilled the bowl with clean water. When the doctor was ready she knelt beside the bed and took Tim's cool hand in her own. His hands were large and felt strong and rough, as if they held the memories of a hundred fights. She hoped Dallas' face was the size of a balloon.

She watched with a queasy stomach as Jenkins sewed up a layer of tissue below the skin, closing the wound somewhat. It took a good amount of time, and a half hour later he told her he was going to close the skin wound with silk stitches.

"They'll come out in a month or so," he said, working carefully. "The cat gut ones underneath, they'll disappear on their own. Judging by the scars this young man has, he'll take these silk ones out by hisself. Ain't gonna be the prettiest job, but if he didn't want a hospital, he's gonna have to settle for this. Better than the first go 'round anyway."

It took another half hour for him to finish closing the wound, and once it was cleaned, Ruby relaxed a little. He looked much better. Jenkins dressed the wound, then packed his bag, leaving her with plenty of gauze and a prescription for penicillin.

"Change the bandages in the morning, get him to take it easy," he said. "It gets infected, he'll need a hospital, right away."

She nodded, and followed the doctor downstairs and to the door. She locked up after he left, then climbed the stairs to the second floor. She stopped in the bathroom to fill a pitcher of water and took a glass with her back to his room.

She spied the bottle of whiskey on the night stand and grabbed it, taking a sip. The liquid burned as it went down and she coughed a little, then relaxed as the warm feeling seemed to spread through her body. She took a deep breath to settle her nerves more, then pulled the rocking chair back toward the bed again, but sat down gingerly on the narrow piece of mattress available to her.

His skin was so pale he looked like a cut marble statue. He had a lean build, skin tight over sinuous muscle, although his bones were still visible, like a jungle cat. He was breathing slowly, his face still pale, and his brow furrowed as if he was disturbed about all of this, even in sleep. His midsection was now wrapped in gauze, his t-shirt in tatters on the floor. She pulled the blankets up to his waist, his skin surprisingly warm for someone who looked so ghostly.

She stared at his face for a second, his eyes fluttering open and closing again very slowly, and suddenly he looked very young to her. Even with the deep scar on his face, and a few shallow ones that disturbed the skin on his chest, he looked much younger than she had thought him. She brushed a few damp curls off his forehead, re-wet the cloth and placed it back on his head, shushing him back to sleep when he tried to talk.

"You're a pile of trouble, Tim Shepard," she sighed, putting a bucket beside the bed in case he was sick in the night. She looked at him for a moment, reassured he was asleep, then leaned over and kissed Tim's temple, where his scar began.

* * *

**A/N:** So how do you think this little episode will affect their relationship?


	16. Awakenings

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note: **Another chapter I really liked writing - added a bunch to this one too. Reviews are appreciated!

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Awakenings**

_**Wednesday, May 4, 1966**_

Tim opened his eyes and was sure he was being stabbed in them.

"Oh, fuck."

His voice sounded like sandpaper. He shut his eyes again, waiting for the pounding to lessen. He didn't know where he was.

He opened his eyes again and the light hurt them, but not as much this time. He didn't want to think about what had happened to him. He lifted his head off the pillow and waited a moment for the dizziness to pass. His mouth felt like it was filled with cotton, and his head felt two sizes too big.

He spied the bottle of whiskey beside the bed, a bottle of pills next to it and suddenly remembered the night before. He closed his eyes and dropped back onto the pillow.

He decided payback for Dallas was in order, had driven Sylvia home and made a big show out of kissing her. He got a purse upside the head for his troubles, and then Dallas had come at him like a bat out of hell.

Dally always said Sylvia was two-timing him. He knew Dally thought it was him, but figured Dally thought it was just about every guy in Tulsa at some point, and Tim never thought much of it. Tim felt the raised lump on the side of his head where her purse buckle had caught him. If Sylvia was two-timing Dallas, he'd eat his hat. That girl had it bad.

He expected a fight for kissing her - he expected a knock down drag out fight, one for the books that they'd talk about years later. A fight where Dallas would get the message that Ruby was off limits, whether Tim wanted her or not. He figured Dally and him would have it out, grab a beer a few days later, and he wouldn't have to endure any more of Winston's stupid tricks.

Only Dallas lost his damn mind and whipped out a knife. It wasn't a fair fight when the other guy used a weapon with no warning. That was the kind of shit you pulled when you were fighting an enemy. Tim hadn't even had time to go for the switch in his boot. Not only had Dally pulled the knife, he'd used it. He and Dally had fought an awful lot in the years since Dally had moved back to Tulsa, but never once had they pulled weapons on each other out of spite.

He remembered the slash across his midsection, the blood pouring through his hands. Sylvia had barely blinked, hissed at them both to get lost, and he stumbled to Bill's car in disbelief. Dally had really done it.

Things got fuzzy once he arrived at the warehouse. He knew Curly was there. His brother was livid and Tim remembered telling him it was Dallas and not to worry, but Curly swore vengeance. His brother had stomped out of the warehouse to find some of the boys, and Tim remembered telling Bill to handle it.

He remembered bourbon.

It got fuzzy after that. There was a memory of pain snapping across his mid section at even intervals, Bill swearing, and the sense that he was going to be lucky if he ever woke up. The sensation of being in a car, and then … it went blank.

He travelled through the blank holes in his mind and remembered Ruby's voice, stinging pain and a cool hand on his forehead. He remembered her lips and didn't know why. He must be at Buck's.

He forced his eyes open again and he saw the ugly curtains stretched across the window. Buck's place. Bill brought him to Buck's. Ruby _was_ there.

He looked to his left and saw Ruby asleep in a rocking chair, her head resting on a small cushion wedged between her shoulder and head. She wore an old fashioned robe over a virginal white night gown.

He moved off the pillow and winced at the pain, then lay down again.

He lifted up the blanket and saw gauze taped to his midsection. He lifted the corner of the bandages and peeled them back. They were stained with blood, and he marvelled at the wound. That wasn't no stitch job by Bill, that was for sure. He wondered if Ruby had done it.

His head began to spin again, and he lay back against the pillow. His nose felt too big for his face, and when he inhaled through his nose it felt like getting air through a straw. He touched his nose gingerly. Broken. Again. He was going to nail Dally's balls to the wall for that.

The room swirled, and he closed his eyes. He was not going to throw up. He was going to get up and get the hell out of here.

When he could move.

"You're awake."

Tim opened his eyes again and saw Ruby moving toward him. She knelt down beside the bed, and he noticed what must be his own blood on her sleeve, the deep colour of rust.

"You look terrible," she said honestly.

He managed to crack a small grin. He tried to speak and couldn't. She poured water into a glass and held it for him, cradling his head in her hand and helping him raise up enough to drink.

The nausea made the room tilt, and he forced himself to think of something else. He was not going to throw up.

"This ain't nothin'," he said. He pulled on the blanket. "Who the hell did that?"

She looked nervously from the hack job to his eyes.

"Bill said no hospital, and no ambulance … so I called the vet."

"The what?"

"Doctor Jenkins, he looks after Buck's horses, he came and stitched you up. Bill really did a number on you, I'd never seen anything so awful. The doc cleaned it out best he could and stitched you back up, it looks real good," she said earnestly.

"Sewn up by a damn vet," he murmured, thinking about how it would be if that ever got out. "Jesus Christ."

"You're supposed to take it easy, and I can change the bandages."

Tim nodded. "Just leave me be."

"But – "

"Ruby," he cut in, his voice harsher than he meant it. "Go on. Let me alone a bit."

She looked at him, her brow furrowed. She tightly wrapped her robe around her, then headed out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Tim waited to hear her steps on the stairs going up to the third floor; then, satisfied she was gone, promptly vomited into the bucket beside the bed.

XXXX

Tim stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Both his eyes were shaded black and blue from the broken nose, but his face was free of blood. He grabbed a face cloth and rolled it up, then bit down on it. He turned the shower on full blast to mask any noise, then felt alongside his nose. When he found right where it was out of joint, he sucked in a breath.

He pushed on his nose, biting down on the pain, trying to breath through his mouth, the cloth choking him. He forced himself to keep going, the bones shifting under his fingers. A second later it shifted into place and he felt a clearing in his nose. He could breathe again.

He sat down on the edge of the tub and turned off the water. His head spun and he sunk onto the floor and sat there a minute, waiting until the dizziness passed. He dry heaved twice, then took two controlled breaths.

A few minutes later he stood up and made his way to the sink. He splashed cold water on his face and run out the wash cloth, draping it on his neck. He had a sudden memory of Ruby and he wasn't sure why.

He stared down at the bandages. The doctor had taped him up good, except now there was a loose edge where he kept peeling the bandages back. He left them for now, wanting nothing more than to get out of Buck's and away from Ruby. God only knew what she was thinking.

He made his way down the stairs awhile later, feeling worse than he had in all his days. He didn't get drunk like that often … come to think of it, only when he'd been cut up bad. He'd have beers with the guys and all, but never enough so he was out of control of his own body or mind. Too much could go down when you weren't paying attention.

Ruby was drinking a cup of coffee and flipping through the morning paper, but Tim didn't think she was reading it. She had the look of someone who was listening for him.

"You shouldn't be up," she said, watching him move slowly over to the bar and sit down. He had found his t-shirt was ripped to shreds, and he had nothing on but his jeans, crusted with dried blood.

"Got stuff to do," he said simply. He wondered what he had said to her last night. Bill told him once he was a talkative drunk and he hoped he hadn't said anything stupid. He didn't want to ask how much she knew about how he got like this.

"I can call Bill to come and get you, you aren't driving with those stitches," she said.

"I'll call him myself."

He inhaled a little as her face fell, then she disappeared into the kitchen as he used the phone. She returned a minute later with a cup of coffee and the smell almost made him lose his lunch again.

"Drink up," she said. "My daddy always said it was the best cure."

He warily took a sip and closed his eyes at the taste. It stayed down at least. He took the vial of penicillin he'd found on the night table and took two. He had the prescription for more in his back pocket.

"Where'd Bill get those?" she asked. "He came in with them."

"Drug store," Tim said simply.

Ruby looked at him, her brow wrinkled. "Drug stores were all closed when he brought you here."

"Yeah, well we go in the back door 'stead of the front," Tim answered. His headache was threatening to squeeze his eyeballs right out of his head.

"What'd Dallas do this for?" she asked quietly.

He looked up. Obviously he'd said that much to her about what had happened. Christ, why couldn't he remember much of it?

"That's between him an' me."

"Oh," she said, looking down at her fingers. Her nails were short, almost boyish, and she wore no nail polish or rings. He looked at his own hands, his raw knuckles, and remembered getting a few good, hard punches in at Dally before he'd gone down at the end of Dally's knife. The blood was gone, the knuckles just raw and red, and there hadn't been a drop of blood on his face. She must've cleaned him up.

He put his hand over hers, and she looked at him in surprise.

"You did good last night."

She smiled at him and he watched her intently, waiting for her to blush and look away. Only this time she held his gaze, and he broke it first.

Cursing himself inwardly, he moved his hand off of hers.

"You got a shirt around here I can borrow?"

"Buck's got one," she said. She disappeared around the corner and came back with a work shirt a size too big, but at least it covered the stitch job. He nodded his thanks.

"Oh, that reminds me, I have something else for you," she said, grabbing the keys and disappearing in the back again. She came out holding something and placed a licence plate on the bar in front of him.

"From a flat bed trailer at Buck's," she said, presenting it like a bird dog with its prey. "Figured you could use it for that trailer plate you need."

He rubbed his chin, rough with stubble since there'd been no razor in the second floor bathroom. Even if there had been, he wouldn't have trusted his hand with it that morning.

"You shouldn't have done that," he said, looking down at the plate.

"But you said you need a plate number to give that Texan – "

"You can go put that back," he said, feeling the anger rising in his chest. He took a breath. "I'll handle it."

"You handle everything by yourself, don't you?" she said, her voice tinged with anger.

He was relieved to hear Bill's foot falls on the stairs.

"Christ, you look ten times better than last night," he said, his voice booming. If he could've reached that gun he knew Buck kept behind the counter, he would've shot Bill's ass off for talking so loud. Bill looked at the two of them, his gaze resting on the plate, then Ruby's crossed arms.

"Am I interrupting something?" Bill asked.

"Let's go," Tim said, getting up and biting his lip to keep from wincing at the pain. It was going to be a long, uncomfortable day.

"Thanks Ruby," Bill said, with a grin and wave.

Tim said nothing, the door slamming shut behind him.

* * *

**A/N:** Oh, Tim. Such a brat when someone sees him vulnerable. Thank you all SO much for the reviews! Keep 'em coming lol.


	17. Telling Stories

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to all the people who have reviewed - and thanks to those of you that are following the story as well, I appreciate it. As a reward, you get a longer chapter lol. This chapter contains what was originally a one-shot I posted separate from this back in the day, but it made a lot more sense to include it as part of the story.

* * *

**Chapter 17 – Telling Stories**

_**Wednesday, May 4, 1966**_

Bill pulled his car into the alley and parked it next to a dumpster. Tim got out of the car with some trouble, wincing at the pain in his midsection. Bill said nothing and waited until Tim caught his breath.

He wanted to go straight home, but if what Bill told him was true, he had to set the gang straight.

"I did what I could to stop them," Bill sighed. "They were all for huntin' Dally up and gutting him for what he did. I think I held 'em off last night, but the order to leave off of Dally needs to come from you or they'll do it anyway."

His guts were still on the inside, so it could've been worse. If he hadn't jumped back as quick as he did he would've spilled a few ropes of intestine out on the sidewalk and that would've been that. Considering Bill couldn't even keep these clowns in line, that would spell the end for the Shepard gang.

While it was right that his boys wanted to stand up for him, this was a personal beef. Tim leaned against Bill's car and tried to gather some strength. He felt sick every time he stood up, and it took all his concentration not to pitch over into a puddle.

He could tell them it was a personal beef. He couldn't tell them he hadn't seen it coming, that Dallas had gone crazy when he saw him with Sylvia. He prided himself on being prepared, but he just hadn't seen it coming.

Dallas never let on he gave two shits about Sylvia beyond what most guys their age were capable of. He saw them disappear upstairs at Buck's more than once and come out again in the morning. It was no secret they were together and Dallas was a jealous son of a bitch, but this was something different.

If he was Dallas, he would be suspicious too. Sylvia was a beauty, outshined just about every girl on the North side and most of the Socs, too. It never made sense to most people what she saw in Dallas, but Tim suspected she wanted to save him. Girls always wanted to do that, even if it was a waste of time. He never thought Dallas cared about Sylvia beyond her being his property, but there was something in his eyes last night. Dallas cared. Way more than he'd ever say, and probably more than Sylvia even knew.

He never thought Dally would take that attempt at a kiss seriously, especially when Sylvia had swatted him one. He thought Dallas got the idea, at least until that blade came at him. That motherfucker really thought he'd stoop to sleeping with his girlfriend, like he couldn't find one of his own if he wanted.

He figured everybody knew he and Sylvia were just friends, but it seemed Dally never got that memo. Hell, he probably didn't get the memo that Sylvia was as loyal to him as the day was long. He didn't see her stepping out on Dallas, no matter how much the asshole deserved it.

He pushed off of Bill's car and walked through the alley toward the corrugated metal that served as a door to the warehouse. They'd cleaned it out about a year ago, and Tim even had a little office for himself, outfitted with a desk. He didn't keep anything important in there - too many of the boys had prying eyes, the ones he had to watch that were always watching him; waiting for a misstep, for an opening, for the day when Tim Shepard wasn't able to be Tim Shepard.

Jimmy Lewis was the first to spot him.

"Jesus, Tim, it's all over the North side," Jimmy said amiably. "Everyone's talking about how you took a blade."

"Yeah, well, Dally didn't fight fair."

He was surprised to find most of the boys had skipped out of school and were hanging around the warehouse. It rankled him a bit – he supposed they wanted to see if he'd actually show up and wasn't really dead somewhere.

"We thought you'd bit it this time," Roth said, clapping him on the back as he made his way into the room. He pushed himself to stand straight, walk like it was nothing.

"Did you now?" he said, his voice even. "Guess you don't got much for brains thinkin' that."

He didn't like Ray much and was glad to see him shut up, a scowl on his face.

"I hear you were all for disobeying Bill's orders and goin' after Dally," he said loudly, eying Carl Hamilton in particular. Carl had a temper and Tim was going to have to keep his eye on him.

"Well, you were pretty bad off from what I saw … " Curly trailed off.

Trust his own damn brother to sell him out and want to start a gang war, and him friends with the youngest Curtis kid. He was gonna have to knock Curly's head in one day. He probably got Hamilton all wired up the night before too, making the fight sound worse than it had been. It'd be a long time before Curly could measure up to Bill's cool head and that was a damn shame.

"Do I look pretty bad off?" Tim asked. He made an effort to walk around the room as if nothing was wrong. He knew his face looked bad, but it wasn't nothing.

Curly was staring down at the concrete floor, his face flushed.

"Bill told me he had to talk some of you out of blowin' Dally away."

He caught the looks that flew between his boys.

"What went on between Dally and me is personal and it's settled. Ain't none of your business," he said, walking between all of his boys, towards the centre of the room, all eyes on him. He knew Buck's shirt, unbuttoned, was giving them all a glimpse at the bloodstained bandage underneath. "We don't go startin' wars over personal beefs, you got that? Each man handles his own business, you know the rule. We got more important things goin' on."

"Like what?" Curly asked. "We ain't done nothin' since you got out of jail."

Tim closed his eyes, wondering if it would do any good to start praying or something, asking God to give Curly a few brain cells. He wouldn't have half the trouble keeping order if Curly'd keep his damn mouth shut.

"Well I've had something big in the works since I got out," he said, his voice low. "I told you about the meeting with the Texans. Well, it's going down. We're gonna be moving things for them, truckin' stuff across state lines, to Texas, Arkansas, Kansas, maybe further on if they learn they can trust the Shepard gang."

Tim heard some of his more ardent supporters voicing their agreement.

"I'll be doing the first few runs," he said. "Bill's in charge when I'm gone. Things go well, we'll be able to get them interested in dealing our own goods along with theirs. We'll be makin' a nice profit, this all goes well. We may be able to truck some of our own stuff out too, unload it over state lines and make some dough. That's as long as no one here screws it up by shootin' any of our allies over a minor beef."

"Ain't you get cut real bad though?" Barnes asked, peering towards Tim's midsection.

"I ain't no worse for wear than Dally is," he said with a wry grin. "I don't wanna hear no more talk of going after him, or the Curtis boys. There ain't no gripe between our outfits, that clear?"

He looked around the group, smacking Pete Malcolm in the back of the head, since he was staring out the window not paying attention.

"You just got out of the hospital, don't make me send you back there," Tim said quietly.

He stared each boy in the eye and waited for the nod that what Tim said was crystal clear. If anyone had even hesitated for a second he would've belted them, and risked busting his stitches to prove the point.

"Alright," he said. "Back to normal. Keepin' the River Kings out of our turf is number one. Those sons of bitches have been tryin' to move in since I got jailed back in February and I don't want none of y'all having it. I've smoothed things over with Brumly, and they're beefing with the Kings now too, last I heard. Let's keep our fuckin' eyes on the Socs, too, that Cade kid got jumped bad a few weeks back. They ain't comin' to the North side and takin' our boys out like that. Got it?"

A chorus of 'yeahs' echoed through the empty room and Tim made his way to the small office, looking back at the tough looking group assembled in the building and feeling a measure of pride. He shut the door, then sat down in a rickety chair and let out a breath, tired and in pain from standing so long.

He had commanded the attention of those boys, their respect. He saw how they looked at his bandaged wound, each wondering how he would've taken it, if he'd be up and dealing with business like it hadn't happened. Tim was finally back in control since getting out of jail and nothing was gonna happen in his area of town without him knowing about it, without him dealing with it. There were some tough motherfuckers out there and they answered to him.

He rested his head back in the chair and closed his eyes. Dallas could lash out over a chick all he wanted. He had more important things to do.

XXXX

Bill pulled up to the curb in front of Tim's house. They had left the warehouse in relative silence. Bill had obviously sensed his mood and was smart enough not to ask questions, but Tim could feel the worry seeping off of his lieutenant. He was probably wondering if Tim had blown things with Ruby and now they were on their own for a trailer.

Tim eased himself out of the car and into the house, hoping to hell that no one was home, but Angel flew out of the kitchen as soon as the door had shut.

"You really ain't dead," she said, looking at Tim in obvious relief. "Bill said you were okay, but I had my doubts."

"I ain't dyin' kid," he said. "Why the hell aren't you in school?"

"Time of the month," she said sweetly, likely knowing he'd drop the subject the minute she said that.

"Well, get lost, we got business," he said.

"Lemme see," she said, lifting back the shirt. Tim peeled back the surgical tape holding the gauze down.

"Jesus, you look like someone experimented on you. Did Dallas Winston really do that?"

"When did this become your business, Angel? Get going."

Angel stuck her tongue out at him and went down the hall. Her bedroom door slammed a second later, then he heard the Rolling Stones blaring from her room.

Bill tossed him a beer from the fridge, but Tim set it down on the coffee table and eased himself onto the couch.

"That wasn't my doing," Bill said, nodding towards his wound.

"She had a doc sew me up," Tim said.

"I told her no doctors."

Tim smirked a little. Ruby had said Bill told her no hospitals or ambulances, but not no doctors. Well, she'd stuck to her word alright. Kid had some smarts. But there was no way he was telling Bill, or anyone else, it was a vet she called.

"It's alright," he said. "Cops ain't knocking on the door."

He closed his eyes and wished the foggy headache would go away.

"Things almost went to hell in a hand basket last night," Bill said with a sigh. "Don't suppose you remember much?"

"I remember up 'til the bourbon started," he said, lighting a cigarette. The sulphur of the match relaxed him.

"I had to take you somewhere since I knew Curly was gonna run his mouth. Sure enough, after I dropped you at Buck's he came back to the warehouse with Adam and Pete, Ray and Carl not far behind. Jimmy showed up and they were all hell bent on finding Dallas. Took everything I had to get them to back down, but they took off anyway. I don't think they found him."

Thank God for small favours. The last thing they needed was a war with Dally and the Curtis boys, not when all this stuff with the Texans was going on.

"You said it was a personal beef. That true?"

Tim turned his head, still swimming from the hangover.

"Yeah," he said. "It's taken care of."

"You got Dally pretty good in the face, broke a rib from what I heard from Kathy," he said, knowing better than to ask what the beef was about, although Bill probably had a good idea anyway.

Bill hesitated a second before speaking again. "We need to give Dirty Dave a trailer plate number. He's expecting one, gonna call later today. I don't know where we're gonna snag a trailer today. Ruby have any ideas?"

"I didn't ask her, seein' as I was unconscious most of the night," he said irritably. The last thing he wanted to talk about was Ruby.

She looked so pleased with herself getting the plate, and dammit if it wasn't just what he needed. But he wanted her out of his business and she kept sticking her nose farther in. Business and pleasure never mixed, and he was aiming more for pleasure, if all the indications she were giving were right.

But they still needed a plate.

"You could call over there and ask," Bill said. Tim glanced over at him. He knew full well Bill had seen that licence plate on Buck's bar. Sometimes his quiet disapproval was worse than having it out.

"I'm not calling over there."

Bill looked over at him and Tim turned his head away. Bill had that look on his face.

"We still need her Tim," Bill said evenly. "For a trailer, for teaching you to drive with one. I wouldn't do anything to fuck that up. Fix things, get what we need, then go from there."

Bill Pearce knew the score. It was one of the things Tim liked best about him. He could always depend on his level head, only now he didn't much like what it was saying. He hated when Bill was right.

"Write this down," Tim said. He told Bill the plate number he memorized from the one Ruby had shown him. She didn't have to know they came in handy.

XXXX

_**Saturday, May 7, 1966**_

Ruby spent most of the day getting ready for Buck's latest shindig. She was setting up glasses behind the bar when people started to arrive, and every time the door opened she hoped to see Tim, but he hadn't shown up.

She didn't know why she was so eager to see him again after the way he'd acted. She practically saved his life and he pretended like it was nothing. She wiped down the bar and sighed. She had it bad.

She was lucky she hadn't run into Dallas either. He hadn't shown his face at the stable, and so far he hadn't shown up to the party, and that was fine with her. She had no idea what to say to someone who'd cut Tim open like a can of sardines.

As the party wore on, Ruby realized she was getting the hang of things. She knew who tried to pinch a free beer, who deserved one, and which girl was going with which guy, probably the most useful information of all, since it seemed Buck's was the place people showed up at if they wanted to step out on their girlfriend or boyfriend. She'd become an expert in keeping her mouth shut, or twisting the truth around so it sounded half-decent.

Ruby saw a friend of Two-Bit's, Steve Randle, weaving through the crowd with one of the girls from the Dingo, the girl with the short dark hair. She waved him over.

"Buck said thanks for looking at the car," she said to him, handing him two cans of Lone Star. She punctured one open and poured it into a glass - the girls usually drank beer that way around here.

"You're about saving my life with that, Ruby," Steve said. "Evie doesn't like the stuff Buck keeps in the keg. My wallet doesn't like her tastes much either sometimes."

She saw Evie roll her eyes. She pointedly ignored Ruby.

"Hey, there's Dally," Steve said. "Evie go grab that table, I gotta talk to him."

Ruby looked over and saw Dallas making his way into the bar. She stared at him, wondering what had gone on between him and Tim. From all accounts, they were friends, and the boys they each ran with were friendly with each other from what she could see around the bar most nights.

She was glad to see his face was bruised, and he moved with some trouble through the crowd, favouring his left side. She was oddly satisfied about that.

Ruby set to cleaning up a little around the bar. A few minutes later she watched as a little blonde girl make her way inside. She looked younger than most of the crowd, and her eyes were red from crying. Her outfit, which would've looked pretty on a good day, was dishevelled and torn. She was looking around the bar, more than out of place with this crowd. She had come up close to the bar, probably for protection from the men ogling her, and Ruby was about to go talk to her when she was interrupted.

"Hey Ruby, get me a beer," Dallas said, leaning against the bar and plunking down some change.

"Get me a beer, please," she said testily.

"Get me a beer and go fuck yourself," Dally answered irritably. He was in fine form.

Ruby turned away, talking herself out of pulling out the gun and doing Tim, and probably a lot of other people, a favour. She found a bottle of 3.2 Budweiser and turned back to see the little blonde talking to him. Ruby held out the bottle toward him.

"Dally…" she said impatiently. He turned back to her and went to reach for the beer, but she slammed it down on the counter before his hand got close. She turned her back to him, but saw the nasty grin he gave her in the mirror she was facing and felt her face get hot. He could be so infuriating.

She turned back to talk to him, ask him what he'd tried to kill Tim for, but he'd already made his way into the crowd, the blonde girl on his heels, crying and obviously asking him for something. Ruby watched with concern and more than a little surprise that someone like her was talking to him. A moment later she saw him walk out of the bar ahead of the girl, and watched through the window as the two of them climbed into Buck's car and took off.

XXXX

Dally didn't reappear until after midnight, alone.

"In case you didn't know, this isn't a car rental service," Ruby said.

"I ain't renting," Dally said. "Since I ain't paying for it."

"Where's your little blonde friend?" Ruby asked. Dallas leaned against the bar, and Ruby didn't miss how he was trying to take the pressure off his left side. He probably had a broken rib or two.

"Not my friend and not my problem," he said. "Two-Bit can deal with her."

"You ever ask before you steal our car?"

"Ain't 'our' anything, it's Buck's car, I can use it when I want. Got any Hamm's back there?"

"Only if you have money," she said seriously.

"I'm drinkin' for free, Buck said so."

"Buck said shit about that," her cousin said as he wandered by. Ruby smiled at Dally, who rolled his eyes, searching his pocket for some change, which he plunked on the counter.

She popped the top off a bottle and slid it over to him. He grabbed it, but she wouldn't release it.

"Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" Dally asked. She saw him cringe as the old jukebox in the corner started belting out an old Hank Williams song. He swore under his breath.

"Cut Tim up."

"Saw that, huh?" Dally said, the hint of a grim smile on his face. "You play nurse maid too?"

"I thought you two were friends," she said, ignoring his question. Dally's back was to her, as he leaned against the bar and watched a couple drunkenly dancing in a corner, no one paying them any mind.

"We are. He just has to learn to keep his hands off what's mine," Dally said, taking a drink of his beer.

Ruby frowned a little. "What do you mean what's yours?"

Dally turned around, a wicked grin on his face. "I guess you ain't heard. He tried to pick up my girlfriend, kissed her, tried to make it with her the other night. I took exception."

"B-but ... you kissed me. How's that any different?"

Dallas shrugged. "Just is."

"Does he always hit on your girlfriends?" she asked, scrubbing at a white ring on the bar.

Dally looked at her, a wicked grin on his face.

"Why?" he asked. "You jealous he ain't hittin' on you?"

She didn't dignify his question with an answer.

"Tim Shepard ain't no choir boy, honey," he said, his voice rough. He turned around and lifted his shirt up. She looked away, checking to see if anyone else was watching this show.

She glanced over and saw his bruised ribs, tape around his midsection.

"Tim did that?" she asked, looking at it in morbid fascination. Dallas slid his shirt back down, his gaze challenging. He raised his eyebrows at her, a smirk on his face.

"Well, maybe you deserved it from trying to kill him for playing your game."

Dallas shrugged, a look of irritation on his face.

"That ain't all he done," Dallas said. He shrugged his jacket off and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, showing off a jagged cut down his arm. "Pulled a knife on me there. And you see this?"

Dallas titled his head up and Ruby saw a faint, jagged scar across his neck.

"Yeah."

"Tried to slit my throat once."

Ruby's stomach soured. "What for?"

Dally shrugged. "Didn't like the way I was beating him at a fight."

Ruby stared.

"I don't gotta tell you about the time he snapped my wrist, broke it in three places. Or the time he gave me a concussion."

"Why'd he do all that to you?"

Dally clamped his mouth around his cigarette and took a long drag, blowing the smoke out toward her.

"Tim does a lot of things," he said cryptically. "You don't even wanna know."

Dallas picked up the beer and headed into the crowd. Ruby stared after him, then looked out the window, unsure about Tim Shepard after all.

* * *

**A/N:** There's a crossover in this chapter with Middle Ground.

What do you think Dally's sharing (oversharing? lol) is going to do to Ruby's feelings about Tim?


	18. Setting the Record Straight

**Disclaimer:** S.E. Hinton owns The Outsiders.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Nefertiti for reminding me what day of the week it is lol. Happy Thanksgiving to all the Canadians reading.

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Setting the Record Straight **

_**Tuesday, May 10, 1966 **_

Tim pulled into the gravel lot at Buck's and set the air and the parking brakes in the truck. He'd been driving it around the past few days, keeping up his skills. He was shifting like an old pro now, and all that was missing was a trailer and a run to make him some money.

Everything was in order, all he was waiting on was word from the Texans. He had to admit he'd rather have a trailer now and know how to drive with one so he'd be ready to go. They might not give him much time when the call came.

He looked around the empty parking lot, the dust settling around Buck's place. The Thunderbird was nowhere to be found, but that didn't mean much. Dallas could have waltzed off with it.

Or Ruby might not be there.

He wasn't sure what kind of reception he was going to get. He skipped out on Buck's over the weekend and hadn't been there since the night he was hurt. He remembered Ruby's expression as he left, her closed face.

He eased out of the driver's seat and shut the truck door, walking toward the front steps. His mid-section was still hurting, but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

The front door was unlocked and Tim found the downstairs empty, save for Buck, who had just finished putting new records in the jukebox.

"She's at the stable," Buck said, eyeing him closely as he walked in.

Tim nodded, grabbed a beer for himself and put the change in the cashbox under the bar. He sat down at a table and nursed the beer. Buck left him alone in the empty bar room, the light streaming through the wood slat blinds, the lines slowly inching their way across the room as the sun moved. When he heard footsteps on the stairs, he was surprised to see Bill instead Ruby.

"Glad I found you here," Bill said. "Dirty Dave called my place, he said he wants you down in Dallas on the fourteenth, with the truck and trailer, ready to roll. Wouldn't gimme any more than an address."

Tim took the paper Bill held out, and Bill helped himself to a beer and then sat down across from Tim.

"We need that trailer," Bill said.

"What the hell do you think I'm here for?" Tim said coldly.

"You couldn't have known he called."

"Yeah, but I like to be prepared," Tim said.

"Where is she anyway?" Bill asked. "Maybe we oughta go up to the stable."

Tim glanced at Bill, who raised both eyebrows. Now he was just being a bastard.

Tim heard the creak of the door behind him and could tell by the soft tread it was Ruby.

She walked in, looked over at them, then set her things down in the bar area and began counting the change in the cash box as if they weren't even there.

"We paid for 'em, if that's what you're thinkin'," Tim said. She finished counting out the change and slammed the lid of the box shut, locking it up. She didn't say a word.

Bill looked over at him with a raised eyebrow and Tim shrugged. He couldn't help it if she was hacked off. He didn't miss the eye roll and shake of the head Bill offered in return, and he knew he wasn't shaking his head at Ruby.

He could tell Bill was staring at him, and Tim sipped his beer and looked straight ahead, ignoring Ruby as she sorted through the glasses and alcohol behind the bar.

Bill sighed, shook his head, then gulped down some of his beer.

"So Ruby," Bill said, a smile in his voice. "Saw you out ridin' the other day, you about scared the devil outta me the way you was on that horse. You do it professional?"

Tim watched her body language relax. She turned around and began to talk to Bill about her horse and trick riding, and pretty soon she was sitting at the table with them, drinking a Dr Pepper and pointedly ignoring him. It would've been cute if he didn't have so much to worry about.

"I gotta run," Bill said, giving Tim a meaningful look.

A split second after the door shut, Ruby stood up.

"I have some things to do, too," she said. He grabbed her wrist before she could walk away, saw her eyes widen in fear and was taken aback. She never seemed afraid of him before.

"You up for helpin' me out with a trailer?" he asked.

She looked around the empty room, at everything but him.

"Ruby?"

"I guess."

She pulled her wrist out of his grip and went behind the bar, and Tim watched her curiously. She was rearranging things that didn't need to be rearranged, cleaning things that were already clean. He stood up and walked over to the bar.

"What's got into you?"

"Me?" she asked with a laugh. "I should be asking you the same thing. First you beat it out of here like the devil himself was after you last week, without so much as a thank you."

"Thank you," he said with as straight a face as he could muster. She was cute when she was mad.

"Very funny," she said, tossing a dish towel on the counter. "It was bad enough Dally had to go and cut you up like he did, but as ornery as he is I guess I should've expected something like that from him. But for the life of me, I don't understand you trying to pick up his girl. You and Dallas are just beyond me."

She took the dish towel up and began scrubbing at the shiny wood.

"I mean, I guess I can see a little retaliation, but Jesus, you guys are supposed to be friends from what I hear, and there you go trying to cut his throat out and snapping his wrist in two."

Tim frowned, getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Ruby, what the hell are you talkin' about?"

XXXX

He was looking at her like she had three heads. Ever since the party on the weekend she'd been driving herself crazy thinking about what Tim and Dallas did to each other. She didn't want to step into the middle of some strange war between them. There was no way after all the trouble in Abilene that she was going to be Tim Shepard's pawn.

Still she was disappointed if that's all she was. She hoped just maybe he liked her a little bit, if maybe that was what the fight was about, but if they did this all the time then she was hoping for nothing.

"Ruby?" he asked.

"Bill said you tried to pick up Dallas' girlfriend when he left you here that night," she said, trying not to sound like it bothered her. She saw Tim grin.

"Yeah."

She frowned at him, then turned away with some glasses, stacking them on the counter.

"That bother you?" He picked his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit a match with his thumb. He put the match out between his fingers and she shivered.

"I just don't get it, is all."

What she didn't get was how she was going to compete with a blonde beauty like Dallas's girlfriend. Or maybe ex-girlfriend now. Maybe she shouldn't even try.

"It was just a little payback."

"Oh yeah? Then what about that hack job on his neck? Or the broken wrist? Was that payback too?" She paused as she realized he said payback. She took in a sharp breathing, wondering if that meant he knew Dally had tried to kiss her. And if he did, and he'd gone after Dally's girlfriend to get back at him ...

Tim was frowning at her again.

"What hack job? What are you talking about?" Tim asked.

"All those things you did to Dally, the cut on his arm, cutting his neck, the broken wrist. Y'all aimin' to kill each other or what?"

She looked over at Tim, hoping he had some kind of explanation, and saw his mouth twitch. A second later he began to laugh, a low and throaty sound which made her catch her breath. She marvelled at how the honest laughter changed his expression.

"Hey, let me in on it," she said, confused as to what could have possibly set him off. Maybe he really was off his rocker and thought cutting people up was a fun pastime.

"He told you I tried to cut his throat, did he?" Tim asked, his eyes twinkling in amusement.

"Well," she said carefully. "He told me you weren't no choir boy and showed me the scar …."

Tim took a drag of his cigarette, stifling his laughter again as he shook his head. "That lousy motherfucker."

"You didn't do it?" She was too relieved to be bothered over his language.

"You should know better than to believe anything Dallas Winston says," Tim said, grinding out his cigarette. "He caught some razor wire in the neck at a rodeo awhile back, the horse tossed him and he broke his wrist. I wasn't nowhere near him."

"Oh," Ruby said, feeling like a moron. "Well, what about the scar on his arm?"

"That I did do." Tim said, blowing a smoke ring. "First and only ... well, until the other day ... knife fight we had."

He rolled up his sleeve. He had a scar on his forearm similar to Dally's.

"Was a few years ago when he first moved back. Ended up in the same ambulance, then those jokesters at the station thought it'd be funny to stick us in the same cell. Didn't work out so well for them since we buddied around after that."

"Oh."

Heat crept into her face as Tim looked at her, an amused glint in his dark eyes. She realized he was handsome when he didn't have his guard up, his eyes both laughing and dangerous.

"You were mad cuz you thought I'd cut him up?" he asked. "Or because I was trying to pick up his girl?"

Ruby turned away from him.

"Dally's got rocks in his head," Tim said. "Doesn't like it when people try and play his own game and get under his skin. He has to learn not to get in other peoples' business."

She turned around and looked at him wondering if she was other peoples' business.

"He plays a lot of games." Tim said. "You'd do well to remember that."

He looked her in the eye and she shivered. He may not have cut up Dally so bad, but they were dangerous either way. Tim's eyes glinted with laughter.

"Ruby, I ain't never been anything but polite to you," he said patiently, looking at her with appraising eyes.

"Well, except for beating it outta here after I helped you like I did."

"'Cept for. So you wanna help me with a trailer?" he asked.

She looked at him intently for a second. "So you only need my help when it's convenient for you? Ruby get me a beer, Ruby get me a truck, Ruby get me a trailer, Ruby – "

"Ruby, shut up." His voice was teasing.

"I was just trying to help before," she said quietly. "With the trailer plate, I mean."

"I know. But now I'm asking for it."

So maybe that was it … maybe it was a pride thing and he didn't like accepting things if he hadn't asked for them.

"You're going to need to learn how to hitch a trailer up and how to drive with one on. I can teach you the hitching part down at the stable. There's another flat bed there," she said. "You could drive with it on too, but a flat bed is nothing like a trailer, so it won't be much use, except for learning turns. I've asked around, haven't been able to find you a trailer."

"I've got a handle on that."

She looked down at the wood grain, then over at Tim. He was looking at her with an amused expression.

"Still need you to help me."

She smiled back at him, feeling like she had a stupid school girl crush.

"Buck ain't gonna like it," he said laconically.

"Buck hates everything," Ruby said, half-seriously. "And he doesn't need to know, anyway."

"I'll meet you at the stable tomorrow morning," Tim said. He got up and put some more change on the counter. "I lied before. Bill didn't pay."

* * *

**A/N:** So Dally is a lying liar who lies. Are we really all that surprised? lol. Reviews are welcomed with open arms!


End file.
